


Hem of Your Garment

by adVENTitiious



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Romance, Time Travel, dark themes, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 20:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 54
Words: 105,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4891909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adVENTitiious/pseuds/adVENTitiious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How much can one person change another?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Work is titled after the song by Cake.

Fingers drummed one after the other, methodically, the not quite chasing thuds seemingly not reaching the ears of the surrounding students, their attention focused wholly instead on not attracting the hopefully expectant but falling gaze at the front.

"No one? No one knows?"

Fingers stopped for a moment, hesitating in their proclivities as one, before starting up again.

" _No one_?"

A cringing silence regretfully filled the sixth-year Potions class in reply. Students of both red and green diverting their gazes down to their texts, some even flipping the pages in an effort to appear searching for the answer that was not to be found - all to avoid the disappointed stare of the potions master.

A begrudging sigh escaped barely parted lips, fingers stopping with a finality to rest heavily, splayed on the cool wooden surface. "I do, Professor." The spoken words enunciated and in a silky, smooth tone.

" _Oh_?" Horace Slughorn turned to his right, wide-eyed, his expression muddying for a long second before brightening, and an all-too-familiar smile made itself known on thin lips. " _Tom, w_ hen did you get here, I didn't see you enter?"

Tom cleared his throat. "The answer is there isn't. Not yet at any rate. There are a few potions masters in Switzerland who have claimed to be able to ease the suffering of one infected with lycanthropy, but to able to prevent them completely from being overtaken by-" he paused, tilting his head, his sharp gaze seeming to cut through the professor. "The madness," he hedged. "It's not been done."

" _Very_ good, Tom," the professor said exuberantly, a chuckle escaping as he shook his head. "I'm not sure how you know about the Switzerland research though, its work has been _highly_ guarded."

A smile curled up the corners of the sixth-year Slytherin's lips. "I follow all potions work closely, Professor. I find it quite fascinating."

The professor nodded agreeably. "That it is. _That it is_ ," he said as he walked over to his desk, looking down in a distracted state to shuffle through a sizable pile of paperwork. "That's it for today. Next class we will begin brewing, I expect you all to be prepared well ahead of time, read the material and don't expect your partner to be able to make up for your lack of preparation."

Grey eyes narrowed. Tom ignored the furtive glances in his direction. Partner? That wasn't going to happen. "Sir, if I might ask..."

The professor looked up, chewing a piece of crystallized pineapple the Slytherin had gifted him as a birthday present their first day back. "Yes Tom?"

"There is an uneven number of students this year," he paused, allowing the older wizard to look around the room, resisting rolling his eyes as he double-checked. He spoke up over the potions master's incoherent mumbling, "And so, I was wondering if it wouldn't be better if I were to work independently for the term." He waited.

"Well..." The professor appeared to count the group again, his eyebrows furrowing. "Uh. Very well. You will be fine on your own?"

The wizard dipped his chin in a slight nod. "Of course, Professor."

"Right. Yes. Yes, very well, Tom." He looked back down at his papers, muttered under his breath again and then said, "Class dismissed."

The classroom livened immediately, a collective sigh from both the Slytherin and Gryffindor students resounding throughout the small room as if they had all been waiting on baited breath for the two words.

Tom stood up slowly as the sound of chairs excitedly scraping the stone floor filled the the area around him. Would he be fine? He held in the seething. What kind of question was that? He rolled up the parchment on which he had barely written anything - the potions professor, his Head of House, bumbling for most of the class in lieu of actually teaching - stuffing it into his bag and then his quill and ink well.

"Tom, don't let him get to you." A hand landed on the wizard's shoulder.

Tom shrugged the familiar hand off as he lifted the strap to his bag over his head and across his chest. He made his way towards the door. "I'm not, I just don't know how he ever managed to complete his studies," the wizard said in a clipped tone as soon as he and Avery had walked out of the class. He continued on with a scowl as his only friend chuckled by his side.

"We can't all be geniuses, you know," the blond wizard said as they walked along the dungeon hallways side-by-side.

Tom pressed lips together tightly, his gaze straight ahead. "I never said that's what I wanted. It'd just be nice not to have an imbecile for a professor."

"Have you found a date for the ball yet?"

Lips twitched in a vaguely upward fashion before being forced back down. "You say that as if it will happen."

His friend laughed, but the sound cut off abruptly. "Heads up, Abraxas is waiting for us, and he doesn't look happy."

Tom's gaze shot to the left, instantly narrowing on the tall platinum-haired wizard, standing casually by the statue in front of their common room. He reached for his wand, pausing halfway to his inside robe pocket when the Malfoy heir's wand lifted immediately in response.

"A little jumpy today... _Tom_?" the seventh-year wizard drawled, his smile taunting as he lifted his chin, his wand pointing halfway between them. "Tell me, did you enjoy your stay at the orphanage this summer?"

Tom stopped cold, Avery following suit. His gaze flicked down - finding the wizard with his wand out but its only target the stone floor, not having gotten to it quickly enough - and then back up. He smiled serenely as a hissing filled his thoughts. "You know, I have to say I'm surprised... I never took you for a fool, Malfoy, but it seems you can't help but turn into one at the slightest sign of a fight."

The tall wizard sneered, his expression darkening as his wand shifted more directly on him, "What are you talking about? _I_ am the one with the wand, _Riddle_."

Tom nodded readily. "True." He paused. "But do you know where Nagini is right now?"

* * *

Harry woke with a gasp. The sixth-year's gaze darted around the moonlit room, his chest rising and falling too quickly as he took in the night muted Gryffindor colors surrounding him. What had that been? He clenched green eyes close as the memory of a smaller Nagini, mouth open and fangs displayed, burned into his mind. And then a smiling raven-haired wizard replaced it, and it all made sense. "Shit, not again."

"Harry, you okay, Mate?"

Harry blinked, trying to clear the cobwebs from his brain, and he looked over to see Ron rubbing his eyes and sitting up, mirroring his position.

"Yeah," Harry said in a rough voice as he leaned over and grabbed his glasses from the bedside table, putting them on as his brain unhelpfully continued to replay the dream he had just woken up from. "Yeah, I'm fine, Ron. I'm just going to get some fresh air," he said, pushing himself up and walking over to his trunk.

He leaned over as Ron mumbled his assent, pulling out his practice Quidditch robes and quickly putting them on over his pajamas. He grabbed his broom and turned to find Ron already fast asleep again. He shook his head, a grin playing at his lips as he shoved his feet into his shoes and then walked quietly to the door, pulling it open and slipping out. He jogged down the winding staircase and into an empty common room.

" _Harry Potter_."

Harry gasped and spun around at the hissed words, his wand already out. Sharp green eyes scoured the dark room, finding nothing that could have spoken the words. He glanced up at a sleeping portrait of Godric Gryffindor, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, as his free hand rubbed at the jagged scar on his forehead. One of the paintings was probably just having fun with him.

Harry placed his wand back in his pocket to carefully push open the door to the common room and stepped out into the abandoned hallway. He glanced left then right before he began to make his way quickly towards the nearest secret passageway, not wanting to run into the new staff. Sneaking out to fly in the middle of the night might not have been his best plan.

He was halfway down the hallway when a voice sounded around the corner, and Harry whipped out his invisibility cloak, quickly covering himself and his broom with it and stepping back against the wall.

"What do we do when we find him?"

"What we were told, you useless fool!"

"But it's no fun. Why can't we hex him a few times. Cut off his fingers or— _Ow_!"

"Shut up! The Dark Lord would kill you for saying much less. Now come on. Umbridge said he would be out here, so help me find him."

Harry reached into his robes and pulled his wand back out as he pressed himself as flat as he could against the wall, the Carrow wizard twins having just turned the corner.

"I don't see him," one of the brothers said, holding a lantern out in front of him, his eyes squinting at the seemingly empty hallway.

"Shut up!" The other twin looked around carefully. "Mr. Potter, where are you?" he asked, drawing out the words in a sing-songy voice, an eery smile on his lips as he scanned the hallway with a cautiously-sweeping gaze.

Harry breathed in slowly and then held his breath as the two sadistic wizards slowly approached where he was hidden. He really should have stayed in his room. He shifted his leg to scoot away as the wizards drew closer, and accidentally knocked his broom, causing the handle to scrape the floor, making a small scraping noise.

"Did you hear that?" asked the one with the lantern.

The one closest to him nodded. "I did, brother," he said and then reached out his hand suddenly, grabbing Harry's cloak and pulling it off. " _Gotcha_."

Harry lifted his wand, the disarming charm on his tongue when he froze. He couldn't move.

"There. _Now_ who's useless," the wizard said smugly as he walked over to Harry, grinning maliciously down at the immobilized Gryffindor, the lantern in his hand casting shadows on his curled face. He tutted. "Students shouldn't be out after curfew, Mr. Potter. You will have to be _punished_."

His brother let out a harsh laugh. "I don't know if this qualifies as punishment," he said as he pulled out something that looked like a modified time-turner and began to spin it lazily. "Although, I suppose Snape said there was the possibility it wouldn't work and would kill us all."

The other wizard scoffed, "The hell with that. I'm not going to die tonight." He grabbed the time-turner like object from his twin and placed it around Harry's neck, tucking it under his robes, his ugly smile returning as he looked into frozen startled eyes. "Safe travels, Mr. Potter." He took a step back. "Let's get out of here before it goes off. The spell will take care of it."

Harry watched helplessly as the two wizards made a mad dash for the corner, and then he felt the chained object around his neck suddenly begin to burn against his chest. He tried to break free of the hex that was holding his body completely frozen. He felt his pinky on his right hand start to twitch, and then his other fingers began to shake under the effort and-

A bright blue light flashed before his eyes, blinding him, and he lost his footing when the ground below him felt like it shifted. He stumbled a few steps sideways and then fell, his head hitting something very hard. He groaned, his outstretched fingers resting on something smooth, something smooth that was moving, and then someone spoke in a wispy voice.

"Who are you?"

"I'm, I'm..." Harry tried to respond, his tongue heavy as something warm and wet trickled down over his eyebrow and onto his cheek, and then his mind was enveloped by darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

"You lied to him! How did you do that?"

Grey eyes blinked. "I lie to him all the time, Avery," Tom said, not flattered, as he strode from Professor Dumbledore's office. He didn't trust the transfiguration professor. He never had. He'd never met a wizarding teacher who didn't like him, but Dumbledore did not. He could tell. The way he refused his requests every summer to stay at Hogwarts to _study_.

He scoffed mentally. The old wizard regretted ever finding him; he had heard his thoughts before. _He's just intimidated by me, jealous. Everyone is._ He chanced a sideways glance at the blond walking by his side discreetly. Except Avery, he amended.

He and the tall blond Slytherin, his only dormmate, had made friends near the end of first year, when he had come to find Tom - body-bound and stuffed in one of the knight's armor outside of Gryffindor, the seventh-years of the despicable House finding it great sport to gang up on a lonely first-year Slytherin.

He hadn't needed the help; he would have broken it eventually. He always did. But Avery, for all his good naturedness, had decided to befriend him after that, and had pretty much given up other friends to do so.

It wasn't that Tom wasn't popular, no, he was very intelligent and well-liked by his peers. But wizards and witches alike grew fidgety if in his presence for too long. He wasn't sure why that was, but he had gathered by their increasingly nervous chatter and movements that he made them uneasy. So, he tended to keep people at a distance, where it was more comfortable, more safe—A hand landed on his shoulder predictably.

"You'll have to give me some pointers then. I can't believe Malfoy wasn't more ashamed, tattling like an ickle first year," he sneered.

Tom smiled ever so slightly, hiding how much he hated when the wizard's pureblood heritage shone through in his speech. He ignored the hand on his shoulder, Avery would only put it back when he got excited again, at least it wasn't wrapped all the way around him the way his friend tended to do when he was really worked up. "I'm not surprised. He pretends to be confident with his Head Boy title and family fortune, but Malfoys are weak. Weak-minded, weak willed. He'd make a wonderful errand boy."

A sharp laugh filled the space. "Don't let him hear you say that." The wizard glanced around them, his hand dropping from Tom's shoulder as they made their way down the stairway to the dungeons. "You really should try to make friends with him though. He's a prat, sure, but he comes from an important family, and with you wanting to go into the Ministry—"

Tom stopped mid-step, standing on the second to last stair and glaring darkly at his friend, who had noticed immediately, his mouth stopping along with his feet. "I don't need his help," he hissed.

Avery looked away and then back at him, his blue eyes soft. "No, I didn't mean-"

"I don't need anyone," Tom said firmly, anger building in his chest and closing down his thoughts one-by-one. His fingers tingled, and he felt the urge to grab for his wand and hex his friend. He had made it this long, without a family, without parents, without support, or even friends mostly. " _Anyone_."

The blond nodded quickly. He rubbed at the back of his head, avoiding eye contact and shifting his feet around, not moving away. "Right. No, I shouldn't have said it," he said quietly.

The dark-haired wizard closed his eyes slowly and let out a measured breath. He inhaled then, and his tense body slowly loosened. He had done better that time. "Good," he said curtly and then took the last two steps to bring him dungeon level. He waved a hand and watched as a trail of lights slowly lit the long corridor to the Slytherin common room.

They walked quietly, the only sound their footsteps, Avery's more hesitant than usual, a niggling of something uncomfortable irritated the wizard's chest. "Nagini seemed pleased with herself," he offered.

The blond beside him nodded, letting out a laugh, the sound only slightly strained. "Yeah, I can't believe Malfoy didn't notice her beforehand."

Tom smiled at the memory of the snake sneaking up from behind the smirking pureblood, and the terrified scream that had then fallen from the wizard's lips before she had sunk her fangs into his leg. His only regret was having to have neutralized his familiar's venom in order to have her in the castle; it wasn't fair. She was a predator after all. "He really does remind me more of a witch with his long hair and girlish screams." A soft laugh escaped his lips when Avery agreed wholeheartedly as they neared the Slytherin statue. He hissed the password, ignoring his friend when he reminded him it would open without the Parslemouth. It was one of the only things that had kept his fellow Slytherins from completely marking him as inferior in first year, he would use it whenever he liked.

They stood in the common room, tables and couches half-filled, but the silence was palpable. Slytherins were quiet; something Tom had found himself very pleased with from the start, because he was not a big talker. He clenched his fingers, pumping blood into his extremities as they made their way to the hallway that led to the stairs to their dorm. He hated the cold, almost as much as he hated losing control.

* * *

Harry groaned.

He blinked.

He groaned again.

He blinked a few more times and squinted, his vision blurry, and his head throbbing in time with the blood pulsing through his veins. "Where am I?" he mumbled out loud as he looked around a slightly familiar - but at the same time not familiar at all - room.

"Sixth-year dormitory."

"What? This-" he paused, blinking to try to clear his vision, but it didn't help. He could make out only shapes and green, a lot of green. "Am I in Slytherin?" he asked the faceless voice, his pounding head making critical thinking impossible.

"Yes." The response was hissed. "You are hurt."

Harry nodded slightly, his eyes crinkling in discomfort. "My head."

"You're bleeding," the voice supplied. "Who are you?"

Green eyes blinked. "Who am I?" He felt something brush his fingers, something metal and smooth, and they wrapped around it.

"Your glasses."

Harry's fingers tightened around the eyewear, and he lifted them, placing them on the bridge of his nose carefully as a door opened behind him. "Thank you," he said, his vision coming in to sharp focus on a snake. "You're a snake."

The snake appeared to nod, its chin lowering and then lifting. "Yes. And you are a wizard." The snake lifted up further, peering over his shoulder. "Hello."

"Nagini, who is this?"

Harry turned his head slowly at the oddly familiar voice to find two wizards standing by the door, their wands out but not pointed at him. He tried to think. Did he know them? The blond looked somewhat familiar, maybe - but the black-haired wizard was definitely someone he knew.

He grimaced, rubbing at his forehead: _or someone he had known?_

He met sharp grey eyes, and a feeling burst in his chest, making his blood whoosh in his ears. He cleared his throat, ignoring the odd sensation, not sure of what to make of it.

"I'm Harry," he said, the name sounding not quite right. He pulled his hand away when he touched something wet but tacky, to find blood on his fingertips. "Harry... Potter," he said as he looked down at the scarlet liquid painting his fingers.

Tom studied the wizard sitting on the floor of his dorm. Harry Potter... The wizard was wearing some type of quidditch robes, the colors unmistakably Gryffindor, but—But it was not the same style and the color was less muted. The black-haired wizard was still studying his fingers, which were covered in blood, his own apparently.

"Harry Potter?" Avery asked curiously, speaking up from Tom's side, his tone not surprisingly genial to the wizard who had broken into their dorm somehow. "Are you new here?"

The wizard looked up, black eyebrows furrowing, but no response came.

Lips pulled tight. Tom had warded the dorm he shared with Avery himself that morning - knowing Malfoy would most likely seek revenge and not wanting him messing with his possessions to accomplish it. It shouldn't have been possible for _anyone_ to remove them. He had taken them down too just then, and they had been perfectly intact. He took a step, moving further in, letting the door shut behind him, waiting for the soft click to sound before speaking up. "How did you get in here?" he asked, gaze searching for a wand, but finding the wizard's stained hands and the dark wooden floor around him empty.

"I, uh..." the wizard trailed off, his eyebrows furrowing further, and he appeared to be thinking as if something didn't quite make sense. "I... I don't know."

Tom's wand lifted. "I've never seen you before. You're in Gryffindor?"

Harry nodded slowly. He remembered that. He looked down at his robes, Gryffindor robes. Yes, but, everything else was fuzzy, not solid, or maybe clouded was a better description. His head pounded in protest when he tried to concentrate through the fog that was his thoughts, and he placed a hand to his head before sucking in a hiss and pulling it back with more blood coating his fingertips.

"What happened to your head? You've got a nasty cut," Avery said, to which Tom shot him a sharp look.

"I can't remember." He pushed himself up at that, swaying slighty, his headache coming back full force as he stood and making his stomach turn violently. He let out a measured breath and looked down as dots of light swam in his vision. His eyes swung back up to the two Slytherins at the sound of an impatient throat clearing. "I'll just leave," he offered when he noticed the wand pointing in his direction. Although, to where he was not quite sure.

"Just a moment." Tom raised his wand further, the tip pointing at the wizard, who had begun to approach, his movement somewhat unsteady. Grey eyes narrowed. "What year are you?" He was sure he had never seen him before. The lean wizard had a distinct look to him. Pitch black, messy hair and bright green eyes behind perfectly round glasses, but that wasn't why he was so certain. It was the wizard's magical aura. He'd never met anyone with a similar feel. He practically exuded raw magical power, and there was a familiarity to it that simultaneously put him both at ease and on edge, which only aggravated the latter.

Harry hesitated. "Sixth year?" he said, almost disagreeing with himself as soon as he had said it. "I think..." He couldn't remember his years at school or before—

"You're not _sure_?" Tom asked slowly, he met vivid green eyes and pushed forward with his gaze to search—And something like a wall slammed down, shoving his mind back hard, throwing him out almost angrily. He blinked, his head jerking back minutely from the unexpected expulsion from the wizard's mind. That was a first. "Nagini, how did he get in?"

The snake hissed, "He just appeared. I like him."

Harry looked down at the snake - who had slithered closer and was resting near his left foot, its tail resting just on his shoe almost affectionately - his expression surprised. "Just appeared?" he asked the snake, it nodding in response.

"Yes," it hissed.

Tom's fingers tightened around his wand. Apparition was not possible on school grounds, of that there was no question. His gaze flicked sharply between the wizard and his familiar. "You're a Parslemouth?"

Green eyes met his again, and he struggled to maintain eye contact. He clenched his jaw, forcing his gaze to hold steady. He did not like the wizard, not at all, there was something unnerving about him that made him want to run. He did not run away from anyone.

"Yes... is she yours?" the wizard asked, his tone friendly enough despite the hesitance.

"You're not in the position to be asking questions, _Harry Potter_ ," Tom said, the tension in his body seeping into his words unbidden when he spoke the wizard's name, his apparent growing comfort only aggravating the Slytherin's own discomfort. "You're in our dorm, without permission, and I don't believe you're a student here either, you've been in none of our classes."

"Wait," Avery spoke up, a staying hand landing unwelcome on his friend's sleeve. "Are you Charlus's cousin? Remember Charlus Potter, Tom? He was a seventh year two years ago. Gryffindor."

Harry's eyebrows pulled together at that. He opened his mouth to speak when the door to the dorm suddenly swung open. Three sets of eyes shot over to find a tall grey-haired wizard in purple robes standing in the dorm entryway.

Harry took a small step back, the odd feeling in his chest returning from earlier to try to strangle his heart as he looked upon the man, who he was sure shouldn't be there.

"Mr. Potter," the old wizard said, opening his hands and holding them out in greeting. "I've been expecting you."


	3. Chapter 3

Harry leaned down and brought himself eye-level with the red-feathered bird perched on the stand in the professor named Dumbledore's room. "Fawkes," he said in a whisper, and the bird tilted its head to the side and then let out a long musical note that the wizard felt resonate somewhere deep inside his mind as it mixed with a familiar memory.

"Yes, you remember him?"

Harry continued to study the unusual bird for a long moment as a disconcerting feeling rushed through his chest at the wizard's softly spoken words. He had felt the same response each time the wizard spoke or he looked at him or met his eyes, or worse, the wizard said his name. But he couldn't figure out if it was a good feeling or a very bad one. He righted himself and turned to look at the expectant wizard, letting out a slow breath that did nothing to relieve the tension growing inside him. "No," he said curtly and looked away from disconcertingly twinkling blue eyes. "Professor..."

"Dumbledore. You don't remember me, Harry?"

Harry ran a hand up into wild black locks and shook his head, irritating the dull ache back to life behind his eyes, his mind feeling frustratingly full of nothing, a dry laugh escaped his lips. "Should I?"

The old wizard let out a heavy sigh. "Harry, it appears you are suffering from memory loss, I have sent for Madam Sundry, the school mediwitch, and Professor Slughorn, our potions professor. They should be able to help."

Harry nodded, the movement agitated.

"Lemon-"

"No," he said sharply and then his expression muddled. _Lemondrop_. He looked up at the wizard, his expression growing wary. The two Slytherin wizards had seemed certain he wasn't a student, and the snake had—" _How_ do I know you?"

The wizard clasped his hands in front of him, his gaze almost severe as he studied him for a long moment, and then his expression began to soften, and he walked around the neatly kept desk and sat down in the chair behind it. He slid a black-encased text labelled _Advanced Transfiguration_ to the side of his desk top as he motioned with a sweeping hand to the seat placed across from him. "Please, have a seat, Harry."

Harry started to refuse, but then his legs seemed to ache as if on cue, and he took the few needed steps and dropped into the offered chair with a huff.

"Yes, we know each other," he said the last words as he dipped his chin and looked over glasses, and then he added smoothly, "But not from here, from another place."

Harry nodded slowly as he tried to justify the wizard's words with his own memories. His eyes squinted when his head pulsed angrily under the mental stress.

"It's best not to push it," the wizard said gently, and when Harry looked up at him he continued, "Sometimes the brain's job is to protect, and it's better to let it heal itself in its own time."

The door opened, and a heavyset wizard in expensive-looking robes strode in alongside a witch dressed in hospital garb.

"Hello, Albus, what have you got here?" the wizard asked as the witch brushed past him with a scowl and placed herself directly in front of the young wizard, crouching down to get a better look at him.

"Albus," the witch said with a frown, her tone scolding as she took Harry's chin in one hand and pulled out her wand with the other, the sound of hushed voices finding the young wizard's ears. "You should've brought him straight to me."

"Sorry Matilda, but I thought it best to have him out of the view of the rest of the student body, and my room is closest."

Her scowl deepened, and she lifted her wand to a wide-eyed Harry. "Calm now," she said in a softer but not overly comforting tone in the wizard's opinion, "I'm just going to fix up your cut. All right?"

Harry swallowed and nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he said and closed his eyes when he felt a tingling as his skin stitched itself back together under the spell that felt all-too-familiar and made his stomach swoop. He let out a slow breath as he felt a cold cleansing charm and then the expected itching replaced where the pain once had been.

"There, now don't scratch it, that'll subside soon enough." She released her hand from Harry's chin and then said, "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Harry shook his head as he met purple eyes. "No, ma'am, I don't think so."

"You don't think so? What happ-"

"Thank you Matilda, that'll be enough for now. I will send Mr. Potter to you once we are done here so you can check over him once more."

The witch stood quickly at the dismissive words, giving Harry a view of the wizard named Dumbledore and the plump well-dressed wizard on his side of the desk, the latter standing more upright and smoothing his robes in an offhanded manner.

"Very well, Professor."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed when the witch made an agitated noise and then left, the clicks of her shoes heavier leaving than they had been coming. He scooted to the edge of his seat when the door shut.

"No need to worry, Harry," the older wizard said, and Harry's teeth clenched. "Professor Slughorn and I just have a few questions for you." The two wizards smiled at him, and Harry's frown deepened.

"...All right," he shifted in his seat and felt something move under his shirt, something metal. He lifted his hand absentmindedly to touch it but stopped halfway when he noticed the two sharp sets of eyes on him, studying him. He let his hand drop to his lap once more. "What is it you need to know?"

The potions professor moved around the desk, and his smile grew more saccharin. "Harry, can I call you that?"

Harry nodded reluctantly.

"Splendid," the wizard said, a gleam lighting in his eyes as he met Harry's, and then suddenly blurred pictures and muffled voices filled the young wizard's head, the collage of senses not solid, slipping into each other and mixing. Harry jerked his gaze away with a start and settled it on the bird in the corner, receiving a soothing long note in response. "Sorry, had to check. I can't make sense of it, Albus. It's almost as if it's changing."

A heavy silence filled the room for a few beats. "Do you remember anything, Harry, when you try? Anything leading up to now? Any specific people, objects, a message? Maybe a plan? Don't strain yourself, it would be something easy to remember."

Harry slowly turned his gaze back on the professor. "No." And then something did flash in his head. The snake, the dark-haired wizard's familiar, her mouth open, fangs bared. And the name 'Voldemort,' like a whisper echoing in his head, as if the name was calling to him, beckoning him. He shook his head. "No, nothing."

"Are you sure, Harry? It could be very important."

Harry looked up at the softly spoken words to meet deep blue eyes. "Nothing that makes any sense," he said truthfully.

The old wizard nodded in understanding, holding up a hand to silence the other wizard when he started to speak. "Very well, perhaps we will give it more time." He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk in front of him, clasping his hands as he held Harry's gaze. "I believe you were sent here for a reason Harry, and until we know what that reason is, it would be best if you not tell any of the students how you really arrived here."

Harry blinked. "But I don't know how I got here."

The potions professor spoke up. "I'd say a poorly charmed port key should suffice, if anyone should ask. You did say Tom and Avery found him, so I'll talk to them myself. But I daresay that a defective port key has been the downfall of one too many a good wizard, so no one should question it. Remember Zachariah Bagstown? He was found in the middle of the wall in his study, two weeks after the fact."

The older wizard nodded in a agreeable fashion. "I do, Horace." He looked to Harry, grey eyebrows lifting. "Are you okay with that, Harry? Just until we've worked all this out."

Harry shifted back into his seat as he studied the two wizards, settling on the older one finally. "I suppose so... You know me, you said, we know each other?"

The man took in a slow breath. "I do in a different time."

Dark eyebrows pulled together, pinching the skin between them. "Meaning?"

"Meaning... I know you're not a danger to anyone here," he paused at that, seeming to think over his words. He then added more slowly, "More importantly, I know that you belong here for whatever reason and that you are worthy of my trust."

Harry swallowed hard, an odd feeling itching in his chest, and he lifted a hand and scratched at it idly over his robes, his fingers pushing around the chain still hidden underneath. It was hard to believe the wizard's words, any of them, but especially that he belonged there, when he didn't know what he had left behind. "But why can't I remember anything? What am I doing here? Where did I come from?" The questions seeming to blurt out all at once.

"Ah, well, I can answer the second question for you," the wizard said more cheerfully. Green eyes met blue orbs.

"You are here to go to school." The bearded wizard leaned over and lifted a large dusty and torn hat from behind his desk and placed it on top, pushing it to the edge, to rest in front of the young wizard.

"Let's see where you will be placed, shall we?"

* * *

Shoes treaded silently with the aid of dampening charms as two sets of feet moved away from the Transfiguration professor's office door, a certain word ringing in Tom's ears. _Slytherin_. He turned the corner, picking up his pace and flicking off the sound charm with a subtle dip of his wand, Avery silent by his side.

Tom eyed two passing seventh-year Gryffindors coolly as he began the descent to the lower levels of the castle in a hurry, still holding his wand out by his side, knuckles growing more blanched. There was only one sixth-year boys dorm for their House.

"What do you think Dumbledore meant by that? A different time?" his friend asked in a private voice when they had reached the last few steps.

"It _means_ , our new classmate isn't what he seems," he replied, keeping his voice calm as they made their way down the empty candle-lit hallway even as his mind clicked through the possibilities, and he reached only one. It explained the wizard's sudden appearance in their room, the non-matching robes, and most of all, Dumbledore's obvious eagerness to keep it all quiet. The Slytherin had learned very quickly after coming to Hogwarts that the bearded professor while not liking Tom's personal preoccupation with collecting, was a collector of his very own — a collector of secrets, the bigger the better. And anyone who would not share theirs readily was treated with caution, as one might an enemy. Grey eyes narrowed.

 _Time travel_ was not smiled upon amongst wizards, the few charmed items for said use highly regulated and magically restricted to minuscule jumps of time. It was considered exceedingly dangerous even in the carefullest of hands, let alone by someone who clearly had travelled a long way and who was suffering from memory loss to add further insult. Such factors could cause _huge_ changes in the timeline. How the Transfiguration professor knew he was trustworthy despite all that was the most important question though, because he wasn't from the past, that much was clear, his robes style were like none the Slytherin had ever seen in Hogwarts a History, and the Sorting Hat had placed him, which it wouldn't do a second time, not without at least a coaxing and none had been required. Which only left the future.

It also meant, Harry Potter was not Dumbledore's first visitor from that specific time, and that meant his presence was very likely intentional on someone's part, necessary even, considering the inherent risks.

Tom hissed the password as he approached the secret entrance to the Slytherin private rooms, not breaking his stride as he passed through the opening stone wall doorway, keeping his gaze straight ahead and ignoring the looks he garnered as he stalked through the common room, his and Malfoy's altercation obviously having circulated despite the platinum blond surely still being holed up in the infirmary, and he continued on to the stairs at the far right corner that led even further down.

He reached level ground and began to wave his wand in ever changing patterns, pulling down the wards one-by-one he had placed, the movements growing more agitated as he neared the solid black wooden door that had just that morning belonged only to him and his one friend, and then it swung open, and his gaze searched, stopping abruptly on a third bed that had been placed directly across from his.

The new black-framed four poster with Slytherin green drapes sat situated along the wall where there had once been a black couch he had transfigured from one of his quills to sit on when he wanted to look out the sole window in their room with an actual view, peering into the Black Lake, the others all magicked to appear falsely like they looked out on grounds the dorm sat well below.

A hand settled on his left shoulder, and he pressed lips between perfectly-set teeth as he felt something begin to grow inside of him that made him want to lash out at the blond touching him.

"Looks like we'll have plenty of time to figure him out," was said and then the blond wizard patted his shoulder twice before walking over to his own bed and crouching down, reaching underneath.

"You think the guy's a thief though?"

Fingers curled tightly around the wand it held as Tom hummed questioningly, distracted, barely restraining the urge to set the unwanted bed on fire. He didn't trust Dumbledore even the slightest and anyone whom the wizard trusted so fully even less, because he was a puppeteer in the Wizarding world, pulling strings and making things happen without most even aware, but keeping the appearance of one's morals intact was easy when one didn't have to get their own hands muddied.

And here he was, hiding an illegal time traveller amongst the student body, and there was something off about the wizard to boot. Something _very_ off. His mere presence had felt wrong, like a threat to his own existence.

Although... if he _was_ actually a threat in some way, having him close could prove invaluable, particularly with his memory gone for the time being. He let out a slow breath between almost closed lips, forcing his wand hand to relax. He would wait until his memory began to return and until then work on figuring out the wizard and his possible motives himself. And when he did, he would handle him accordingly.

"Well you want your ring back you've been having me hold," was said.

Grey eyes blinked and then shifted to the left to find the reflection of one staring back up at him from inside a large black polished square stone set in pure gold.

He swallowed when his throat felt suddenly dry at the sight of the object he had been having Avery hold on to for him since the start of the year. He reached out, fingers wrapping around it securely - and a familiar surge of something trickled into his veins on contact, warming him from the inside, the feeling growing as it coursed more freely with each thump of his heart, and he resisted letting his eyelids fall or a sigh to escape as Avery watched him carefully. He would just keep it close until he could be certain it would be safe, then he would give it back. He would, he was fine without it.

"Are you going to put a security charm on it?"

Grey eyes sharpened at the question, and the blond cleared his throat, averting his attention to his hands he'd stuffed in his pants pockets, looking oddly fidgety.

"Yes... something like that," he said slowly, pocketing the ring before turning from his friend to make his way to his own bed. "I'm going to the library," he called over his shoulder as he began to pack his bag with some blank parchment and an extra quill from his nightstand, his black leather-bound journal already inside, and then he held it open wider when Nagini lifted her head from green sheets in silent askance, "to look for a book on Potions I've been wanting."

"All right - do you want me to come?"

Tom waited for his familiar to tuck her tail in neatly and then he closed the flap and lifted the bag's strap over his head, and he settled it onto his shoulder as he met his friend's questioning blue gaze. "No. I want to be alone."

* * *

Tom sat on his bed late, still in his slacks and white button up but no tie, sock-covered ankles crossed as he leaned over the text he had procured from the library's restricted section on time travel. A green ball of conjured light hovered only inches over the book, illuminating a lengthy paragraph on the so-called 'permanent' safety enchantment process of time turners. He flipped the page, Nagini, who lay coiled tightly on the bed space between his legs, sleeping, shifting slightly at the movement.

He had found a note left on his nightstand from Avery upon returning from the library, saying Slughorn had stopped by to inform them of their new dorm mate and wanted to talk to Tom personally as soon as he got back, the words 'as soon' underlined darkly. He had in fact _not_ gone to see him yet, nor did he plan to the entire weekend. He fiddled with the top button of his shirt, undoing it, and then the next before setting to work on rolling up his sleeves. He heard the door click open just then, and grey eyes flicked up to see the wizard named Harry Potter push his way into the darkened room, his expression unsure.

"Oh. Uh - hello," the dark-haired wizard said quietly as he caught the side of the door to help it shut silently behind him but for a soft click, glancing over at Avery's pulled curtains and then back to Tom. "I, uh, I guess I'm your new dorm mate."

Grey eyes studied the intruder. "So it would seem." He watched the wizard shift slightly, and then he began to move from in front of the shut door, rubbing at the back of his neck, his understated mannerisms still not matching up with the impressive aura he carried.

"You're Tom... right?" The wizard frowned slightly, blinking a few times before adding, "Tom Riddle?"

Tom lifted his chin slightly and then pushed off his bed, leaving his book and Nagini to make his way towards the wizard in the center of the room, the green ball of glowing light following by his shoulder. "I am," he said, studying the wizard as he neared, and he ignored the suddenly heavy ring in his pants pocket.

He stopped just a foot in front of him, finding himself at least two inches taller, the charmed green orb of light hovering off to the side between them, casting them both in a soft emerald hue amidst the darkened room, and he put on a smile. "Welcome to Slytherin House, Harry Potter."

Harry's lips pulled to the side. "Yeah... thanks," he said slowly, as if his own words made him unhappy.

"You're not pleased?" Tom asked, arching an eyebrow when he received no response, fighting the urge to try to pick the answer from his brain.

The wizard looked around the mostly unlit room, his green eyes almost appearing to glow under the cast light. "I'm not sure," he said simply.

Tom's gaze flicked down to the lean wizard's still crimson and gold robes. "Seems you might be more comfortable in Gryffindor. You _did_ say you were one, right?"

Pitch-black brows furrowed at that, the skin between pinching. "I, uh, I _was_ , before, yeah." And then the wizard named Harry walked past the Slytherin without any more of an explanation, a hand lifting to rub over wild locks as he stopped in front of the new bed. "Is this mine?" he asked, looking suddenly exhausted.

"It is," Tom said, not hiding the distaste in his tone. And then he watched as the wizard pulled the Quidditch robes over his head and off with a heavy sigh to reveal something completely unexpected beneath - a white t-shirt and red plaid pajama pants, a wand tucked haphazardly in his waistband. The wizard then toed off his shoes and climbed in, shutting the dark green curtains behind him without another word.

Tom stood still for a long moment, staring from the middle of the room at the newly occupied bed as a foreign feeling niggled at his chest. His jaw flexed suddenly, and he snapped his fingers, and the green light extinguished with a hiss, leaving him in the dark.


	4. Chapter 4

Green eyes opened partway only to close back almost immediately at the sudden and unpleasant intrusion of brightness, a grunt of pain passing between the wizard's parted lips as the transient exposure to light punished his head over and over.

Harry felt like shit, no, Harry felt worse than shit. A flash of green reminded him where he was, and a low noise sounding more like a groan escaped his lips before he could stop it. He was in Slytherin, and he couldn't remember anything worth remembering, no people - not even family or friends - or specific events, like his schooling or even a blasted birthday. What had happened, and why had it happened? And why didn't anyone know who he was but for the Transfiguration professor, who clearly didn't know him in a normal way. He had gone to Hogwarts, he knew he had, even if he couldn't—

"Hello?" Green eyes popped back open and then squinted as curtains several shades darker than them shifted slightly but didn't part. "Are you awake in there?"

Harry pushed himself up with one hand and scrubbed at his hair as he sat in the cocoon that was his bed, light leaking in from above unwelcomed. He could barely remember falling asleep or even being shown to his new dorm. He let out a heavy breath as his gaze dropped to the House hued comforter gathered in his lap, lips tugging to the side in displeasure. Although, at least he could remember part of yesterday at all. He glanced back over at the curtains when he heard what sounded like feet shuffle just outside them. He didn't really feel like facing the vast unknown just yet even if the alternative was being surrounded and covered in Slytherin green. It was actually quite cozy in comparison to the alternative.

"I don't mean to bother you... but breakfast ends within the hour, if you were wanting to eat, and with it being a Hogsmeade day, it's really best to get down there in case they decide to clean up early with everyone leaving in a hurry."

Harry cleared his throat, his head still throbbing but lessening some as he sat up and localizing to just behind his temples on either side as his blood redistributed. He reached out and pulled back the curtains with a held-in sigh, and he picked up his glasses from his lap, pushing them on tiredly so he could see.

The wizard looked up to meet kind blue eyes that when brought into sharper focus felt infuriatingly familiar. "Hello..." he said, clearing his throat again as he struggled to place the Slytherin but failed, before adding, "I'm Harry. We met yesterday when I popped into here on accident." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Sorry about that, bad portkey charm I was told."

"Avery," the wizard said with a knowing nod, not appearing the least put out, "Benjamin Avery, but everyone just calls me Avery, because Benjamin is too long and I hate Ben. It's nice to meet you Harry."

Harry blinked a few times and then pulled the curtains back further to reveal the entire dorm. "It's good to meet you too," he said, despite not knowing if that was actually true or not, because he couldn't seem to shake the wariness that he'd felt ever since showing up with no memory of anything that could place him as anyone more specific than a Gryffindor sixth-year, which he wasn't even that now. His gaze stopped on the empty bed across from him, the curtains neatly tied back at four points and the sheets perfectly smooth. "Where's ah, Tom?"

There was a slight breathy noise of surprise, and Harry looked up at the wizard. "He introduced himself last night when you were already asleep," he said, black eyebrows furrowing when the blond looked only more surprised by the explanation. "Isn't this his dorm too?"

"What?" The blond blinked a few times rapidly and then began to move his head in something between a nod and a shake. "Oh yeah. Yeah it is. I'm just..." He eyed Harry for a moment, the expression more curious than anything. "He introduced himself to you, did he?"

Harry grinned slightly at that and pushed himself off the bed. He had gotten the feeling after just two interactions with Tom Riddle that he wasn't the most outgoing wizard, despite his highly polished mannerisms. He had also gathered that Tom made him feel incredibly ill at ease for whatever reason and so he really didn't mind. Bare feet settled onto cool hardwood floor, the wizard having kicked off his socks at some point in the middle of the night. He stretched experimentally, finding his hip pulling sore on the right side and ribs above smarting too at what was probably an impressively sized bruise; he felt like he'd barrelled through a wall. "Yeah, he didn't seem too pleased with it though," he said finally and then turned to grab up his wand from under his pillow and tuck it back into his pants waist.

"Sounds about right," was said with a douse of amusement and then, "A trunk appeared for you this morning."

Harry looked over at the blond, who was smiling genially enough. "Oh. Thanks," he said and made his way around the wizard and the foot of his bed to find a large black wooden chest with silver piping and no House emblem marking it. Lips pressed together. It wasn't his. How did he know that? He crouched down and touched fingertips carefully to a heavy gold key lock about the size of his palm, and it popped open with a startling click upon contact.

"Something wrong?"

Harry cleared his throat, fighting the sudden irritation vying for his attention that he was purposely ignoring and lifted the surprisingly heavy lid. He had enough to deal with at the moment, without addressing emotions that he didn't even understand why he was having to begin with. "No, I'm fine," he said in a thoughtful voice as he began to sift through the contents, finding not yet creased textbooks on one side along with newly purchased and still boxed writing paraphernalia, and then on the other several pairs of slacks and button ups, ties and robes with predictably green accents, and he continued to dig deeper.

He frowned as his fingers settled gingerly on the hood of a black zip-up sweatshirt—Suddenly he was standing in a dilapidated building, glaring down into wild, bloodshot grey eyes as he held a wand threateningly, murderous feelings pulsing through him, and then a squeaking rat took off across dirty floorboards and—

"Oi, you all right Harry?"

Harry jerked back slightly when he found blue eyes too close, and his gaze mapped the room around him again, reminding his disoriented brain where he was as the once too bright and unsettling memory shifted back and then began to dim rapidly in his mind. "Yeah, I - I think I just remembered something," he said, licking suddenly dry lips and then swallowing hard as he mentally chased after what seemed to only be now a residual burn in, and when he reached out for it, it dispersed like a cloud of smoke, only leaving a wispy trace of manic eyes and the violent emotions he had felt, as if it had only been a dream.

"Oh really? And what was it?"

Harry jerked to look over his shoulder at the unexpected smooth voice and pushed himself upright when he found the wizard named Tom standing in the doorway just a few feet behind him, to what must be their bathroom, in a pair of soft grey slacks and an unbuttoned crisp white shirt, black hair damp and hanging just above high cheekbones, curling ever so slightly at the ends. "Nothing," he said immediately for some reason, and then added in a more convincing tone when a dark eyebrow arched in apparent disbelief, "I mean, it's gone now, I can't remember it."

The tall wizard tilted his head to the side as he leaned his shoulder against the dark wooden frame, lean stomach muscles stretching on one side and wet inky locks falling further into his face as he held Harry's gaze, his lips twitched at the corners but didn't turn up or down, and he said, "That's too bad."

Harry nodded, finding himself at a sudden loss for words and trapped by quiet grey eyes that seemed to somehow draw forward the barely there memory of like colored orbs, bringing with it an echoing taunt from a voice that made his chest both clench and ache.

_Are you going to kill me Harry?_

Had he _murdered_ someone? If the memory was real it looked like he had been about to, but the professor named Dumbledore had insisted he was trustworthy, did that mean—

"Harry here was telling me you two've already met."

Harry blinked, and grey eyes shifted lazily from him to land on the blond, who had moved to beside Harry. The tall wizard pushed off the doorframe and began to move past his two dorm mates and towards his part of the room. "Don't sound so pleased with yourself," he said.

And Avery let out a laugh and winked at a still quiet Harry before making his way over to his own trunk, lifting its lid and searching through it to pull out a black trench coat. "Don't worry Harry," he said as he draped the jacket over his arm, closing back his chest before waving a free hand, palm out, in a small swiping motion over it, an audible click resounding from inside the wizard's trunk. "Tom's hiss is usually far worse than his bite."

The wizard of topic froze completely at that for a split-second only to then shake his head with a huff, lips curling slowly up on one side, and then he said in a wry tone as he began to button up his shirt, "You mustn't tell Harry lies, Avery, it'll only confuse him more." And then the wizard shot a look over to him as the blond chuckled, clearly undeterred, before saying as he did up his last two buttons, the warmness cooled from his voice but his expression remaining relaxed, "No one appreciates being lied to, do they, Harry?"

Green eyes started to narrow when a whispery-voice said, "Hello again." Harry's gaze swiveled around and then down in recognition to find the patterned green snake at his bare feet.

"Oh, uh. Hello - Nagini," he said with only a slight pause, answering the snake with a small smile as it lifted its head a few inches and flickered its forked tongue out in a greeting of sorts.

"Harry Potter," the snake said, "You've joined us I s-ee. Welcome."

Harry bent down, resting on the balls of his feet to bring himself closer to the snake. Her light green patterning more obvious upon closer inspection. He pushed sliding glasses up the bridge of his nose as his smile grew. "I suppose I have. Thank you."

The snake's head bobbed, and she lifted up another couple inches. "Your parseltongue is exc-eptional," it said, hissing more strongly on the 's' sound.

Harry let out a laugh. "As is yours," he said cheekily, which earned him a stuttering hissing noise that he couldn't help but think was a laugh.

 _"_ Nagini."

Harry looked up at the hissed word to find Tom's gaze trained intently on him as he did up his tie with sharply precise movements, the emotion behind it making him feel oddly uncomfortable.

"Ye _s_?"

The wizard looked down to his familiar. "Unless you want to stay behind today, I'd advise you to return to the bag. You can talk later."

The snake let out what sounded like a disgruntled sigh, then glanced once more up at Harry and hissed a 'goodbye' before lowering her head to the floor and sliding smoothly away and back over to the dark leather carrying case that lay sprawled on its side partially open by Tom's nightstand, the corner of some parchment hanging out messily along with a capped ink well that had rolled a few inches away and was almost under the wizard's bed, and Harry found his lips quirking upward as he straightened back up, moving opposite of the crouching down wizard.

"Seems she's taken quite the liking to you, Harry," Avery said, earning no outward response from his friend as far as Harry could tell as the dark-haired wizard began to neatly situate his bag again around his familiar. "You're lucky, because she _does_ bite. And often." And then the blond began to make his way for the door, and he shot a still-pajama-clad Harry an easy smile as he passed by, tucking his wand inside his shirt pocket. "I'll see you at breakfast," he said and then called over his shoulder as he pulled the door open, "You coming Tom?"

The wizard set his fixed bag upright atop his bed instead of putting it on. "Yeah, I'll be down soon, go on ahead."

Blue eyes shot over to Harry at that, the distracted wizard having moved to his new trunk to pull out an outfit for the day even though he had no idea what he was going to do, because he had been told by the grey-bearded wizard to just relax for the weekend and let him know right away if he began remembering things, but he wasn't sure he wanted to share what had just for all purposes seemed like a memory to him.

"Yeah." Avery nodded after only a moment's hesitation. "Yeah okay, I'll see you two soon then," was said, and then the door clicked shut quietly, leaving the two raven-haired wizards alone.


	5. Chapter 5

Tom's hand settled over the ring nestled safely in his right slacks' pocket as the door shut behind a departing Avery.

He could tell his friend hadn't wanted to leave them alone, but it was necessary. The wizard had _clearly_ been lying when he said he didn't remember what he'd seen, and if he was already recovering his memory then Tom needed to move quickly. Which meant no Avery. The blond was far too trusting of people in general, which he appreciated when it came to him, but not so much when there were others involved. He could have waited until breakfast was over, as he was not going to Hogsmeade with Avery, he never did, and the newcomer most undoubtedly did not have a signed parental consent for the trip - but that would have meant leaving the wizard in the dorm... alone.

The dark-haired wizard studied the leather satchel atop his neatly made bed, noting the side pushing out in a spot and then collapsing back in as Nagini shifted around inside impatiently. There was no reason to feel unsettled over leaving the wizard alone in the dorm; he knew there was nothing incriminating to be found inside his trunk or his nightstand, and _yet_ , that didn't seem to encourage his leaving in the least.

Lips pressed together tightly between white teeth when muscles tensed of their own accord to the sound of a trunk shutting audibly from behind. He had grown too accustomed to relaxing inside the private room, it being the only place in the castle he didn't feel he needed to be hyperaware. He would have to adjust. Tom understood the necessity of adaptability, because without it he wouldn't be where he was now.

"You don't have to wait for me, I'll be fine."

The tall Slytherin turned at that. He met unassuming emerald eyes, and then the wizard named Harry Potter pulled his t-shirt off over his head, tossing it onto his bed and grabbing up a clean white undershirt. "I'm sorry?" he asked with lifted brows, focusing on the wizard's face.

Harry pulled a fitted black mock-neck sweater over his head, and then shot a glance over as he ran a hand over already messed hair, making short black locks stick out in every direction even more, the effect being that he looked like he had just been flying. Tom's lips pressed together harder. "It's just-" Harry said, stopping smoothing down the heavy sweater to narrowly eye a small Slytherin House crest stitched near the right shoulder before shaking his head and looking back up. He tossed his wand onto his bed and then dropped his pajama pants, stepping into a pair of khaki slacks and pulling them up as he looked to the wizard expectantly. "That's what you're doing, right?"

Tom's lips tilted up at the right corner, grey eyes unwavering. He wasn't used to a wizard holding his gaze so easily. Usually they looked away, even Avery looked away at times. "You think I'm waiting for you?" he asked.

Harry fixed the hem of his sweater over his slacks. He shrugged. "For whatever reason, yeah," he said.

Tom crossed his arms over his chest as the wizard proceeded to sit down on the edge of his bed to slide on a pair of black shoes, looking down to tie them. "Do you not like help, Harry Potter?" he asked, attracting the attention of the wizard's gaze once more.

"Well, no, I wouldn't say that..." the wizard said, dark brows furrowing as he appeared to struggle with the simple question, and then a flash of a grimace flitted across his face, and he rubbed at his temples a few times roughly with his index and middle finger before saying, "I just, I don't think I'm used to it is all."

Grey eyes blinked as a few things ticked through Tom's mind. The wizard's wariness around others, even people who seemed to like him without reserve, his apparent ease around animals, and then the tidbit the wizard had just shared. Tom cocked his head to the side at the familiar signs, and he held his lips in place when they tried to curl up. He began to trail slowly towards the wizard, who watched his movement with obvious surprise. He stopped, just in front of his still-sitting dormmate, and offered out his right hand, palm up. "Everyone needs help at some point."

Harry looked down at the outreached hand, and Tom bent his fingers as one ever so slightly a few times in offering, and then green eyes shot back up, and a whisper of a laugh fell from parted lips. The wizard hesitated only for a second, and then his hand was sliding into his. Tom closed his grip around it firmly and pulled the wizard up, bringing them within inches of each other, green eyes wide and so close that he couldn't help but sink into the inviting gaze—He was suddenly looking down at a russet-haired Hufflepuff under a ceiling of building black clouds, cracking ominously, the body splayed in an unnatural fashion on unkempt grass and eyes unseeing. Blood was trickling slowly from his forehead, and the feeling that _he_ had done it rushed through his mind and another emotion clenched sickeningly at his chest—and fingers jerked from his, and he was instantaneously shoved back and out of the wizard's mind with a furious gale.

" _Shit_ ," Harry cursed, leaning over and holding his head on either side as his legs shook, Tom finding himself a few feet back. "Shit, what was that?"

Tom licked his lips, his breaths shortened, blood humming with something akin to excitement, and he watched with wider than usual grey eyes as the wizard let out an unhappy, but he noted, not surprised laugh as he rested his hands on his knees, his breathing unsteady. He took a tentative step forward. "Are you all right?" he asked, the buzzing in his muscles and mind adding an unusual inflection to his words.

Harry stood up at that with a jerk, looking surprised at seeing the wizard standing in front of him. He let out a forced sounding breath before nodding, green eyes squinting unfocused before shooting up to meet his. "Yeah," he said distractedly, and then he turned away without explanation and swiped up his wand from his bed, tucking it in his front slacks pocket, and then he began to clean up his space.

Tom watched the wizard closely, checking for signs of realization to having 'shared' the vivid memory as he went over it in his mind over and over, committing it firmly to his own and wishing not for the first time he had a Pensieve instead of the inferior memory-transplanting charm he had learned in third that couldn't access the subconscious to round out a memory. He resisted the urge to pull out the black journal from his bag right then. He could do it later. He had more pressing matters to deal with at that moment, because he had stumbled upon something completely unexpected just before he'd slipped into the memory.

Something that could prove incredibly useful if he was careful.

"Harry..." he said, and the wizard dropped his pillow onto the made bed before turning slowly to face him.

"Yeah... Tom?"

He smiled then, and took an obvious sweeping scan of the wizard before him, allowing himself to appreciate the wizard's lean features for the first time, and then he met an emerald gaze, which had widened minutely in the process. "I can go, if you'd rather I not wait," he offered simply.

Harry's gaze diverted as he blinked a few times rapidly, and he cleared his throat, pitch-dark brows furrowing. He looked back to the waiting wizard. "No. No it's fine, I'm ready now," he said, something hesitant in his tone that hadn't been there before.

Tom's smile grew slowly, to reveal pearly white teeth. "Excellent."

* * *

"There you are," Avery said as Tom approached the blond sitting at the far end of the emptied Slytherin table but for a few first years, the rest of the tables in the Great Hall similarly occupied. The platters were all removed but for the five within the wizard's reach.

Tom stopped, Harry by his side, his green gaze darting almost unhappily around the large room much as it had the entire way there. He took the seat across from the blond, setting his bag below and resting it against his left leg as he scanned the available dishes. "You didn't have to wait," he said, ignoring how his words almost mirrored the wizard's beside him from earlier.

"Yeah, I know," Avery said, picking up a piece of bacon from the tray in front of him with his fingers and ignoring the scowl Tom shot at him as he began to scoop out his food. He glanced between the two wizards before saying, "So Harry, did Tom give you a tour on the way up?"

The wizard sat more upright at the question and said, "Ah no. I remember it all actually." He frowned at that and studied the food on the table before him that were no different to the statues and portraits and stairways he had encountered on the way there - quiche, oatmeal, fresh fruit, bacon - feeling incredibly frustrated he knew which items he preferred but not having eaten them, and he felt his appetite waning despite not knowing when he'd last eaten. Perhaps he should go to the transfiguration professor and tell him about his two apparent memories.

He stared down at the empty plate before him, eyes closing as he tried to block out the two snippets he had been left with. He was either a murderer or, well, he couldn't really think of another explanation at the moment, the thought making his stomach roil threateningly.

"That must be weird," Avery said, picking up another piece of bacon as Harry continued to eye the table.

Tom sliced into the piece of quiche on his plate, taking a bite as he waited for the wizard to respond.

"Yeah - it is actually," Harry said slowly. He cleared his throat and managed to do the same to his thoughts but not quite as effectively. There had to be an explanation, one that didn't include him being a murderous wizard. "But I'd rather not talk about it right now," he added more quietly.

Avery nodded. "Not a problem." He turned his attention back to Tom, a smile coming out to play at his lips. "Black asked about you this morning."

Tom's chewing slowed, and grey eyes turned up. "So?"

Avery's grin widened. "Aren't you going to ask what he wanted?"

The tall wizard picked up his glass of pumpkin juice as his mind jogged up a mental picture of the pureblood seventh-year Slytherin, who had a well-known and very healthy appetite for both witches and wizards. "No." He took a sip as Avery laughed.

"Black?" Harry asked, speaking up, sounding interested.

"Yeah, Orion Black, of the most ancient and noble house," Avery offered with amusement and then looked back to his friend when Harry's expression muddied, but he said nothing further, and he leaned over his plate and said more discreetly, "He asked if you were going to Hogsmeade."

Tom's hand tightened around the fork in his grip, the wizard refusing to rise to the bait. Avery had decided at the end of fifth that he would encourage Tom to date, saying it would be good for him, but he had been offering pretty witches up for suggestion until _just_ then. A wizard. He shifted away from the dark-haired wizard beside him discreetly. And not just any wizard but one of the most outwardly notorious ones in their house, his only redeeming quality being he didn't get along with Malfoy either. "Well I'm not," he said, clipped.

Avery shook his head, appearing slightly amused. "Yeah, I didn't figure you would." And then he glanced over to Harry curiously. "What about you Harry, what are your plans?"

Tom resisted looking over at the wizard as he said, "Oh. Uh, Tom invited me to go to the library with him."

Avery blinked. He blinked again. "Ah, well. All right then." Blue eyes met grey. "Do you want me to stay behind today?" he asked.

Black eyebrows arched as irritation bloomed angrily in Tom's chest. He set down his fork on the edge of his plate carefully, chewing slowly as he kept his breathing even. "Do you think I can't entertain our new dorm mate for a few hours, Avery?" he asked finally.

"No. No I just thought-"

"Well don't." Tom waited, unblinking.

The blond looked around the Great Hall, Tom feeling Harry's presence beside him more heavily for some reason. "Right," he said abruptly and then, "I should probably be off then, I've a date with Lestrange."

Tom nodded shortly in acknowledgement as his friend stood up, ignoring the twinge of agitation in his chest. He couldn't stand their fellow sixth year, Amelia Lestrange, or her uppity pureblooded views, thinking she was better than everyone, than him, just because of her blood lineage. And it wasn't only her, pureblooded wizards could be fanatics when it came to purity, even when it involved their only family members, especially then sometimes. The ring in his pocket pressed sharply into his thigh. He ignored it, his jaw clenching. What had happened was done with and there was no—

"See you 'round Harry," the blond said genially, Tom being pulled from his musings as Harry responded in kind.

Tom stabbed a bite as his friend began to make his way for the giant wooden doors at the front of the hall. "You're not going to eat anything?"

The wizard shifted beside him. " _No_. I'm not hungry," he said, sounding as agitated as Tom felt, and his reasoning made itself known quite quickly. "Is that how you treat your friends?"

Tom stabbed another bite, the question poking at the irritation in his chest, agitating it more. "No. That's how I treat Avery." He turned to meet the wizard's gaze. "Do you've a problem with it?"

Green eyes narrowed, the wizard's jaw clenching, and the trays around them began to let off a subtle humming noise. "Yeah. Avery's a nice guy."

Tom scoffed, and then the dishes began to rattle, the sound tinny on the heavy wooden table. "You don't even know him." He glanced over at the platters when bacon began to fall off the edge of its tray.

"I know him well enough to see he didn't deserve that."

Tom eyed the angry dishes warily, the wizard causing it not seeming to pay them any attention, as if it were not wholly unexpected. "Aren't you a bit old for accidental magic, Harry?" he asked evenly. And the entire table itself began to hum in response. He slid his wand out from his left sleeve under the table.

The wizard suddenly let out an angry breath, and then the dishes all stopped with a thunk, the table echoing it in a lower pitch. Harry shoved himself up, glaring down at him. "You're a right arse," he said and then mumbled something about going outside as he walked off.

Tom looked down at the shifted platters and spilled bacon and then back to the wizard stalking towards the doors as he ignored pointed stares in his direction, his own temper receding as if the wizard were taking it with him to keep his own miserable one company.

The massive doors swung open when he got closer and then slammed heavily behind the wizard without even a wave of his hand to direct his magic, and Tom's lips tried to curl up as he took another bite. He had some heavy reading ahead of him.


	6. Chapter 6

A breath slowly escaped barely-parted lips, its passage silent so as not to distract the wizard sitting at the library table closest to the restricted section, and furthest from other tables. More than a third of the table top's wooden surface was hidden under heavy texts - ones that had dust wedged in their creases and that creaked when opened - and a few rolled parchments, from the scroll section rounded out the collection.

Harry Potter. Harry _James_ Potter to be exact, Tom had found out after picking the name from Slughorn's mind when he'd seen the potions professor briefly in the hallway on his way to the library only two hours before. The head of Slytherin not even attempting to push the issue of meeting over Harry when Tom had insisted all was perfectly well, and he just really needed to get to the library to read up on successfully brewing Draught of the Living Dead if one did not have access to asphodel.

The Slytherin continued to skim the pages of the geneology book open before him, titled _Get to Know a Wizard_ , that had no index and was not alphabetized for whatever reason but did have the unique and very helpful spell of automatically adding to its pages upon new births and deaths. He studied for only an extra second the Gaunt family tree, ignoring the tightness in his chest, before flipping sharply to the next page - and grey eyes stopped cold.

 _Potter_.

He leaned forward slightly, the shadow from his upper body falling over the page, casting the names in a darkness as he began to scan the branches copied to it, searching. Lips slowly began to tug up at the corners. The Potter family, like most pureblooded wizarding families, had a tradition with naming their eldest sons, a pattern. The heir of each generation was given their paternal grandfather's middle name. Grey eyes trailed down the tree, stopping when they landed on the wizard's name: Charlus Harry Potter.

"Working on a project?"

Tom looked up, shutting the book at once. He eyed the wizard standing before him with a level gaze, his jaw clenching out of habit with his privacy having been intruded upon. "Harry, I didn't think you'd be joining me," he said smoothly.

The wizard shifted, and he lifted a hand to scrub at wild locks, looking unsure. "Yeah, well, I talked to Avery outside, and..." He shrugged a shoulder, not saying anymore.

Tom lifted his chin slightly, arched black brows following suit. " _And_?"

Vivid green eyes flicked up to meet his gaze straight on, and the Slytherin's lips pressed together more firmly as he resisted looking away. "And... I changed my mind."

Tom pushed his chair back at that, standing up as he held in his irritation at being discussed. "Well, I'm finished now actually," he said, and he lifted the leather strap to his carrying bag over his head, settling the wide strap on his shoulder. He pulled his wand from his left sleeve, and silently sent the books and scrolls back to their nearby shelves with a few well-aimed flicks of the wrist.

"You keep your wand in your sleeve?"

The tall wizard looked back over to the wizard. "Sometimes I do," he said, and then, "Where do you keep yours?"

Harry patted his front, right slacks pocket. "Extending charm," he said in explanation.

Tom nodded minutely as the wizard drew the dark wand, and something niggled at his chest. "What's its core?" he asked as he fought the urge to raise his own at the now armed newcomer.

The wizard frowned, looking down at the subject of topic and studying it. "Phoenix feather," he said, two pieces of information clicking together in his mind as he spoke the answer, but it was like they were invisible, useless. He shook his head, trying to clear the oddly empty thoughts, and then he looked back up. "What's yours?"

Tom's lips cocked up ever so slightly on the right side as he said, "Same." He walked around the table, bringing himself closer to the wizard, wand still in his hand. "You play quidditch?" he asked as he began to walk, the wizard falling in step with him.

Harry nodded, glancing around the empty library, brows furrowing slightly. "Yeah," he said hesitantly, and when they passed through the doors he continued on with the wizard down the hallway in the opposite direction of the stairs. "Do you play?"

Tom shook his head, huffing a whisper of a laugh, as he pushed open a tall wooden door to the outside, walking out with the wizard still by his side. Grey eyes searched a shrouded sky above, heavy white clouds looking like they had been dipped in paint to mirror them. "No," the tall wizard finally said as a wind whipped up around them, wrapping his white shirt smooth around his tone back and tousling neat black hair down into his face, and he grinned at the wizard beside him. "But I love to fly."

Harry found himself returning the expression, and he looked out at the darkening grounds as clouds grew thicker, more quickly than he would have expected possible. "Looks like it's going to storm," he said idly.

Tom nodded, and then he drew in a slow breath, tasting the damp air that felt charged with life as it filled his lungs, and he began to walk out further, towards the Black Lake below and its dark, choppy waters that otherwise were as smooth as glass on a windless day. "We don't get many storms, I think Dippet usually blocks them," he said with an air of anticipation as the wind continued to pick up around them, the surrounding trees beginning to sway as they held on tightly to their leaves. "He must not be here."

Harry glanced over at the tall wizard as they stopped just feet from the lake's shore, and he thought back to the professor, who he'd met in the headmaster's stead. "The transfiguration professor... Dumbledore," he said, the skin between pitch black brows pinching as he tried to place why he felt so uncomfortable speaking the wizard's name, "Is he trustworthy?"

Tom didn't look over as he watched the first drops of rain begin to pelt the water's restless surface near the other bank, slowly gaining ground as it approached them. He thought back to the old, bearded-wizard finding him at the orphanage. Muscles tensed. He'd been almost excited once he'd realized the man wasn't there to take him to a mental asylum. The tall wizard shook his head. "I'm not the best person to ask that, Harry," he said, and then the storm finally reached them. He stood there, its pelting drops stinging before soaking into his shirt and running warm down his skin, the pounding sound enveloping his senses fully, making it easier to breathe, and he waited for the wizard beside him to make a run for the castle or cast an impermeable charm. He felt Nagini shift inside his bag, that was sealed with a water-repelling charm, as she settled herself closer on the inside and just below his ribs.

Harry didn't say anything as he let the words sink in. He took off his glasses, tucking them into his slacks' pocket as thunder boomed in the not far off distance and then there was a zig-zagging flash of lightning that spanned almost the entire lake, lighting up the water like a broken mirror.

He looked over to the tall wizard, whose white shirt was clinging to him, almost see-through, midnight hair in thick tendrils, framing high cheekbones, grey eyes alive with something that made his chest a little tight as they met his green.

"You don't have to stay out here," Tom said; thunder cracked almost directly above them.

Harry nodded. "Yeah I know," he said and then looked back out at the black water, and lightning lit up the sky directly above the two-dark haired wizards as they stood side-by-side in a jagged flash of angry white.


	7. Chapter 7

Quick, light steps were barely audible as they traversed the creaking hallway upstairs at the Hog's Head Inn after all the students from Hogwarts had already made their way back to the castle.

Feet stopped only long enough for a wand to be drawn, and it was waved in an intricate pattern just in front of the door that ended the narrow corridor.

An unfamiliar incantation was uttered in a low voice, and the wooden door glowed a brilliant gold, the seams humming a brighter golden-white, making it appear as if the light were coming from the other side, and it sprung open, a creaking of its old hinges announcing the newcomer's entrance.

"Is he here now?" was asked immediately as a tall, shadowed figure turned from the dirty window it had been hovering in front of to watch the passing storm.

"Perhaps..." was the guarded response.

"Come now, there's no need for secrets between us. What could you possibly have to hide from me?"

* * *

Harry walked, the soles of his shoes squeaking on the dark wooden planks of his new dorm as he made his way to his bed, an equally drenched Tom doing the same. A quiet laugh escaped his lips, the wizard feeling somewhat lighthearted for the first time since he could remember. Which wasn't technically that long. But still.

He toed his shoes off, left then right, before leaning over to peel off sopping wet socks that tried desperately to suction to his heels, dropping them atop equally soaked shoes, and he laughed again as he tugged his sweater and shirt off as one over his back and head, fighting with clingy material when it tried to get stuck around his forearms.

"What's so amusing?" was asked.

Harry ran a hand roughly through damp inky locks, and he looked over his bare shoulder to speak when he found the tall wizard turned away, clad in only his boxers, his back muscles flexing under smooth porcelain skin as he pulled a black shirt down over his head.

Harry cleared his throat, averting his gaze. He left his own wet slacks on as he made his way to the trunk at the end of his bed. He crouched down and lifted the lid, rifling through its contents before deciding on the outfit he'd had on the night before when he'd arrived, minus the Quidditch robes and the time-turner-like piece he had rolled up in it discreetly. He'd not mentioned it to anyone yet, the time turner. He knew it might be an important key to getting back or remembering at least what had happened to him... but with the discomfort he'd felt in the presence of Professor Dumbledore - who he'd been informed was taking on the duties of an absent Headmaster Dippet, by the bearded wizard himself - and then his first couple memory flashes... he wasn't so sure he had anyone to tell—or possibly more importantly—much to return to.

Maybe that was why he couldn't remember anything; he didn't want to.

The wild-haired wizard pushed himself up, shutting the trunk firmly, as he forced his thoughts to the present and the question he'd been asked. "Nothing. That was fun," he said, nonchalantly, as he began to undo his slacks. He'd considered a couple times mentioning the time traveling piece to the wizard with whom he'd spent the day. Tom Riddle. Surprisingly they seemed to have quite a bit in common, and other than his odd moments of coolness, he found himself enjoying the wizard's company.

He felt a sudden tightening in his chest at the musings, like his body was trying to tell his mind something, and he cleared his throat again.

"Fun..." the tall wizard said slowly, as if the word were distasteful somehow. "I suppose that's one way of putting it..."

Harry tugged his white t-shirt on down over his chest, his lips pulling up at the corners, and he leaned over to step into the pair of dry flannel pajamas. "What would you call it then?" he asked in a gamely fashion.

"I wouldn't," was said, the voice suddenly much closer.

And Harry stood up quickly, turning to find the Slytherin eyeing him, his expression closed off, as he stood just a couple feet away in silky grey pajama pants and a fitted black t-shirt. He blinked. "What?"

Tom trailed his tongue along the backs of his teeth as he eyed the wizard, who he'd spent a not unpleasant evening with. A wizard whom he knew nothing about, except that he might very possibly be a murderer, and one whom Dumbledore implicitly trusted for whatever reason when he hadn't trusted Tom even as a child when _he'd_ been the one to pluck him from the hell of an orphanage he'd been forced to grow up in. He'd seen where he'd been raised, where he'd learned how cruel muggles could be firsthand - but the old wizard had been more concerned about his 'collections' than the fact that he'd been bullied and terrorized every day up until his accidental magic had seen fit to save him, because no one else had cared to help him. He'd had to save himself.

The fact Dumbledore obviously liked Harry so blindly didn't sit well with him at all, particularly when he and Harry shared so many similarities... "Who are you Harry?" he asked quietly, and he watched closely for his response, looking for any signs of deceit or recognition on the powerful wizard whose mind he couldn't read properly. He would need to work on that.

Harry stiffened at the question. "I'm sorry?"

And he took a deliberate step toward him, ignoring the tension that crept into his own shoulders in response. "Why do you think you're here?" He pressed.

Harry opened his mouth only to close it again, and the tall wizard moved even closer, leaving not enough space between them to be comfortable. "I don't know, I can't remember anything, remember?" he said, hesitant, as he met intense grey eyes, not sure where the unexpected line of questions had come from.

Tom studied him coolly for a long moment, and just when the wild-haired wizard started to speak up again but more defensively, he smiled politely. "Of course, my apologies," he said, his words sounding almost patronizing, and Harry visibly bristled. Tom shifted forward more at the action, until their chests were almost touching, and he looked down at him, refusing to back down. "But you know what you like. What you don't like." He held his gaze, waiting for the wizard to contest the statement. When he didn't but merely gave a slight nod he continued, his voice lower, roughening just the slightest bit, as he asked: "Do you like _me_ , Harry?"

Harry blinked, and the tight feeling from only moments before began to rise in his chest again at the simple question, and a pounding started up behind his temples, making it harder to think. "...What?"

The wizard bit down on his lower lip gently as if he were trying to keep some expression from making an appearance. He tilted his head to the side. "You can tell me, I won't take it personally."

The wild-haired wizard hesitated. He wasn't sure how to answer the question. He couldn't ignore the growing tension in his chest, and he remembered clearly how he'd felt the first time he'd laid eyes on him. But he also knew that the more he was around the intense wizard, the more he enjoyed his company, as well as his proximity... "I'm not exactly sure," he said honestly.

Tom stood, silent, for a long moment, and then he took a step back as he said, "Fair enough," in a silky smooth voice once more, and he turned away.

Harry watched on, confusion whirling in his mind, as the tall wizard ducked into his bed and pulled green curtains shut behind him silently, and then he climbed into his own with a tired exhale, his eyes closing as he settled on his back, and the pounding behind his temples spread out only to intensify.

He rolled over with a groan and planted his face into cool sheets.

* * *

_He was gone._

_He was gone, and he wasn't coming back._ Ever _._

_He'd wanted to go after him, to go with him, but Remus had held him back. He shouldn't have, it was his fault, it was all his fault. He wouldn't be dead if he'd just listened._

_Lights and popping bulbs flashed in his vision and assaulted his ears. A hand settled firmly on his shoulder, and he looked up to see an older Dumbledore, guiding him away but not meeting his gaze._

_He felt alone, more alone than should be even possible. Another popping flash whited out his vision completely, and as it slowly dimmed he found himself somewhere else._

_He was in a small room. His bedroom... but it was dark, there were no lights, even the moon was blotted out by thick clouds, and there was shouting coming from somewhere._

_His pulse raced, and his heart began to jump madly inside his chest. Something was wrong. Very wrong. There was a crashing sound below, and a cruel laugh seeped up through the floorboards._

_"It's okay, Harry, I won't let him hurt you," was said in a soothing voice. Fiery red hair framed familiar green eyes. "You're safe. I'll protect you. It's okay. It's okay," his mother said, not noticing as the door began to open behind her._

_Harry shook his head, but he couldn't speak. He opened his mouth as a blurry figure began to form, but then a sickening scream stopped him short, and he watched helplessly as his mother twisted and fell, a green smoke clinging to her body as she lay on the floor before him._

_He looked up to see her murderer—_

* * *

"—arry, are you okay?"

Harry jerked up with a gasp, the grip on his shoulder falling away, and he blinked rapidly, sweat clinging his shirt to his heaving chest. He met worried blue eyes, and then he leaned forward to rub at his eyelids with the palms of his hands, trying to scrub the too clear and burned-in image of who must have been his mother, dead on the floor of his childhood bedroom.

He remembered now. They were dead. They were _both_ _dead_.

He groaned as his chest ached, and then it spasmed painfully, sucking air in then forcing it back out too quickly.

"Harry - Harry what's wrong?" was asked in a rush. "Maybe we should get Madam Sundry, Tom."

"No, he'll be fine." The bed dipped at Harry's side. "You're making the room shake, Harry," was said in a quiet voice.

Harry started, his chin jerking up to find himself trapped in a dark grey gaze, his chest continuing to jerk without his consent. "I—What?"

"The room. You're shaking it, you need to calm down."

Harry clenched his eyes back shut, and he shook his head. "I. I can't. They're dead. Someone _killed_ them."

"Who?" was asked, and when he didn't answer, "Who's dead?"

Harry shook his head, wishing it wasn't true. But he knew it was. They were.

"Harry-"

"My parents. _Both_ of them," he said sharply, and he felt his chest jerk more violently.

"Someone killed them you said?" was asked softly. "Tom maybe we should get Dumble-"

" _No_ ," Harry said, cutting Avery off, and he clenched his jaw, focusing on the rattling and creaking noises around him. "No, I don't want to talk to Dumbledore." He forced out a slow breath—It was a dream; it hadn't just happened—His chest protested, but he forced out another slow breath between pursed lips, and the rattling around him calmed to a low humming, and then he inhaled even more slowly, focusing on drawing in the misdirected magic even further with it - and everything stopped.

Air escaped the wizard's lungs as his magic finally settled, and he let his forehead drop to rest on his knees once more, wishing his mind would be as obedient and follow suit.

"I'll sit with him."

Harry wrapped his arms around bent legs as feet padded softly away, his mind a buzzing mess, and bed curtains were pulled shut quietly on the opposite side of the room. And then the bed shifted underneath him, reminding him he wasn't alone, and the silence that ensued felt maddening as his mind grew louder in response.

"My parents are gone," he said, voicing his thoughts when he couldn't stand it anymore, the words feeling numb on his lips, "and I can't remember anything about them but their deaths."

Harry looked up when he received no response. He met the silent wizard's gaze, and something _sharp_  twisted angrily inside his stomach, and he suddenly felt like attacking the dark-haired wizard before him. He wanted to take out all his grief on him, to hurt him—He clenched his teeth, jaw muscles flexing, as the impulse only grew.

"My parents are gone too," was said quietly.

Harry paused at that. And he felt his anger begin to slowly drain from him as he processed the unexpected words. He blinked a few times, swallowing, his throat sore like he'd strained it. "What happened?" he asked.

He watched the tall wizard shift back a few inches to lean against the wall at the foot of his bed, and he rested his head just beside the window that looked into the Black Lake, his chin inclined as he stared up at the darkened ceiling above them - not saying anything. But just when he thought he wouldn't answer, grey eyes flicked over.

The wizard studied him for only a second before saying, "My mother, she died giving birth to me." He stopped then, his gaze shifting down to his hands in an uncharacteristic fashion. "And my father was... killed. He picked a fight with someone much stronger than him. And he lost."

Harry said nothing as he watched a plethora of emotions flit across the wizard's face, and anger seemed to win out.

"He was a bad man though, he didn't care about anyone but himself. He didn't care if his own family lived or died." Tom laughed at that, the sound not happy, an emotion roughening it that made Harry's chest clench.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Tom shook his head, and he met his gaze once more, grey eyes flashing with a sudden intensity. "Don't be," he said, and then, "You say you don't remember anything about your parents but their deaths. But that can't be true."

Harry hesitated.

"You were upset. Sad when you woke up," Tom said, his voice losing its edge somewhat as he continued, "They must have been good to you. So you have that."

Harry nodded slowly, the words ringing true in his mind. He opened his mouth to thank the wizard when he stood up abruptly.

"Goodnight Harry," the tall wizard said, the words barely audible as he walked off, leaving him once more alone.

Harry watched Tom's curtains pull shut for the second time that night, and then he settled back onto silky green sheets to stare up at the ceiling.


	8. Chapter 8

"— _S_ till _s_ -leeping?"

Eyes flitted around under still closed lids, and a chest rose, expanding fully before falling with a relaxed huff.

"You should wake up. You have cla- _ss_ _s_ oon."

"I'll be late," was muttered as the skin around stubbornly shut emerald eyes pinched tight, and the wizard's brain began to register fully the world around him once more. Harry let out a soft groan as he nuzzled the side of his face against a warm softness, and his toes scrunched up as his calves stretched only to straighten out with another huff of a sigh and thighs flexed. The wizard rolled onto his back, and then he felt a small weight slide up onto his chest and settle.

"Harry Potter, where did you get that _ss-s_ car?"

Green eyes shot open. _Scar_. "What?" He blinked rapidly, something akin to an alarm going off in his brain. His right hand shot up to his forehead as he looked into the small face of his dormmate's familiar. "Scar...?" he asked, swallowing, his throat suddenly dry as he felt a jagged raised mark on his head, his fingers having known exactly where to look.

Nagini lifted up higher and moved closer as if she were inspecting it. Her forked tongue flicked out, just shy of his fingers that were partially obscuring it, and then she curled back again, and watched him quietly.

Harry blinked a few more times, and then he reached out, finding his nightstand to his left and then his glasses. He pushed them on distractedly as he tried to hold on to the odd feeling he'd been assaulted by at the mention. He'd almost felt like he was remembering something. Maybe how he'd gotten it? It had felt significant. Extremely so—

"It look- _s_ unusual. Does it hurt... ever?" the snake asked, interrupting his thoughts, as she moved down to his legs.

Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position, and he pulled back Slytherin-shaded curtains to peer out into his dorm to find it empty. "No - I don't think so," he hedged, glancing over at the wizard named Tom's bed that was made up perfectly, because he couldn't remember it ever hurting, but he'd _wanted_ to say yes. He found himself touching the scar again, the action feeling oddly familiar. He hadn't really looked in a mirror since he'd arrived, not closely.

"You're going to mi- _ss_ Potion _s_."

Harry looked down at the snake in his lap. "Potions? Where are Tom and Avery?"

The snake curled itself into a tight coil as it rested on his legs just above his knees. "They went to breakfa- _ss_ -t early _s_ o they could go to the library. They didn't want to bother you. Tom left me to wake you _s-_ o you wouldn't be late."

Harry blinked a few times, and he felt something odd niggle at his chest. He scratched at it over his white shirt and cleared his throat. "Oh... Well, thank you."

The snake dipped its chin a bit. "You should thank him, he' _s-s_ never bothered with Avery," she said, and when black brows lifted slightly, she let out a stuttered hissing noise that sounded like a laugh. "You should hurry. Can I go with you?"

Harry watched the snake slowly uncoil, and she slid off of him and then his bed, making an s-patterned trail as she made her way to the leather bag sitting on the floor by the wild-haired wizard's trunk. He'd found the bag wrapped in shipping parchment and twine on his bed, no note, the night before after returning with his two dormmates from dinner. The snake lifted up and looked back at him, and he nodded, feeling a bit out of sorts. "Yeah, sure. I'll take you," he said and then watched the familiar proceed to knock over his bag with a bump of her nose and then slide into it.

* * *

"Sorry, sorry," Harry mumbled as he made his way down a busy hallway, brushing by older-looking wizards who were standing and talking in small groups, his shirt not fully tucked, and his right hand pushing down at his bangs self-consciously as students eyed him curiously. He ignored the pang of discomfort in his chest that was quickly morphing into agitation when he heard someone whisper his name like he was an anomaly.

He stopped at the closed Potions door. Cursed himself for knowing it, and then he pulled it open.

"Harry!"

Harry grimaced, and he lowered his chin slightly as he made his way into the full room, some tables with cauldrons already overtop fires. "Sorry for being late, Professor," he said as he marched down the aisle towards the older wizard he'd met his first night, hushed words following him that sounded suspiciously like his name; crimson and gold on his left, and green and silver on his right.

"Not a problem, Harry my boy," the wizard said quite jovially as the young wizard stopped before his desk. "Not a problem at all, are you feeling all right?"

Harry cleared his throat, whispers growing louder behind him, and he clenched his hands by his sides. "Yes Sir, I'm fine."

The portly wizard looked up at him for a few beats and then said abruptly, standing, "Very well. Very well, did you bring your text?"

"Ah, yes," he said with a quick nod, turning to look out at the class and then down when he was met with too many wide-eyed expressions. He shook his head slightly, the agitation from moments before returning full force, and he didn't know why. "Where should I sit?" he asked quietly.

"Oh yes. Yes. Where to sit..." The potions professor hummed. "You could. No no, that wouldn't do... Maybe you could, ah... or possibly-"

"He can work with me, Professor." The room fell into silence.

Harry looked up to see Tom, standing at the table in the far back right corner, just by the door, alone.

" _Oh_. Tom, that's very kind of you. Thank you. Yes, Harry if you'd just take a place next to Tom."

The room burst into whispers again, and Harry nodded, walking back down the aisle.

"Quiet down now, class. You've only an hour to complete your potion-"

Harry stopped at the table where his roommate stood. The tall dark-haired wizard shifted over to make room for him, not looking up, as he began to line up ingredients he'd obviously gathered. "Thank you," he said, and when his dorm mate didn't respond, he lifted his bag over his head and set it on the floor under their table before continuing as he pulled out his text, Nagini asleep on a wool sweater he'd stuffed in for her, "for this morning too, I don't think I would have woken up on time."

Grey eyes turned their attention to the crouching wizard, Tom looking in the open bag, his gaze settling on his familiar. "And yet you're still late. You brought her?"

Harry blinked slowly as he stood back up, book in hand. The wizard tapped their cauldron sharply, and a fire sparked to life under it, flames licking up around its edges, eager to do its job. "Yeah... she asked. Is that okay?"

The tall wizard shrugged a shoulder in response.

"Well, uh, thanks anyway," he said. He watched as Tom continued to work, adding a powdered ingredient, and then he began to stir the contents of their potion anti-clockwise. "What are we making today?"

"Draught of Living Death," Tom said shortly, "are you familiar with it?"

Harry frowned. "Yeah, I believe so..." he said. He placed his book down, and he glanced around the room, noticing a few wizards ducking their heads as if they'd been staring at him. His frown deepened, and he rubbed at his arm, as the agitation he was feeling began to harden. "I don't have to work with you if it bothers you."

The wizard set down the wooden spoon on the table between them, and he met the wizard's gaze fully, his expression neutral. He lifted his chin, studying him. "Is something - bothering you?" he asked slowly.

Harry shrugged, the movement exaggerated, and he heard whispers begin to start up again. He heard his name hissed. He lifted his hand, and rubbed fingertips over his forehead roughly, ignoring the tall wizard as he shifted closer, his thoughts beginning to jumble together. And he felt a dull ache begin to throb behind his eyes, intensifying until he felt like he was somewhere else altogether.

He saw platinum hair, grey eyes and a sneer. _Well if it isn't Harry Potter. The Chosen One._ Harry screwed his eyes shut at the scathing voice inside his head.

"Is your _s-s_ car hurting?"

Harry shook his head, and he felt anger bloom in his chest, and he sucked in a sharp breath when the whispers grew louder, his vision beginning to tunnel, the table before him slowly fading out.

"Scar? What scar?"

He felt a hand pull his chin up unexpectedly, and then he was looking directly into dark grey eyes. So dark they were almost black. He felt a whoosh of air escape his lips.

"How did you get this?" was murmured cautiously, and then cool fingertips brushed over the uneven skin on his forehead - and a blinding white pain shot down through the wild-haired wizard, and everything went _black_.

* * *

"Probably just a side effect from his injury when he arrived," was said close by in a not-so-sure voice, feeling like a dream. "Maybe you should take him to the hospital, I'll write you all a note for your next class. Let's see if this helps any first..."

An acrid smell wafted up, and Harry started, eyes popping open, and he found the potions professor before him, standing up with a heavy breath, an open vial in his hand.

"There you go. He's just fine," the older wizard said to Harry's two dorm mates who were standing beside him, both of them looking down, neither appearing overly convinced. "Maybe he just needs a lie down in the dorms. Yes, I think that would do him some good. I can have one of the elves take him there."

Harry frowned and then grimaced when his forehead ached at the action. He reached up to touch his head, and then fingertips met tacky skin, and he hissed in a breath, pulling his hand away. He looked down to find a line of blood in the shape of a lightening bolt on the pad of his middle finger.

"Don't worry, we'll take him Professor." Harry looked up to see Avery smiling down at him gently. "You okay, Harry?" the blond asked.

Pitch-dark brows furrowed, and the wizard's gaze shifted to the left to find Tom eyeing him with an intensity that made his heart begin to dance inside his chest. He looked back to Avery when he reached out a hand, and he nodded as he took the offered help, and stood slowly, sliding up the wall he'd been leaned against. "Yeah, I don't know what happened."

"You fainted." Harry's head jerked back over to the tall wizard, who had moved closer to him. "Must have been the fumes from the unfinished potion, that one in particular has been known to affect certain wizards adversely, especially before the Sopophorous bean is added."

"Ah yes. Good thinking, Tom. I bet that was it." The heavyset wizard turned away and began to make his way back to his desk, his robes fluttering around his feet. "Good thing you managed to catch him before he landed on your cauldron, that would have been very bad. Very bad indeed. You owe Tom a debt of gratitude, Harry. It's not called Draught of Living Death for nothing, even with it partially unfinished, a large enough dose would be deadly I daresay."

Harry met the tall wizard's gaze. "...Thank you," he said, hesitantly, the sentiment feeling misplaced somehow, and he cleared his throat when his voice sounded rough.

Tom blinked once. "You're welcome." 

Harry followed alongside his two dorm mates towards the door quietly, stopping only a second to pick up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, feeling weirdly out of sorts as Nagini shifted around inside. They made their way through a group of fifth-years waiting just outside the class, and as they started down the lit corridor, Harry found himself looking around, not focusing on any one thing, as he tried to gather himself. 

"Oh! Harry!" was shouted down the dungeon hallway, and the wizard stopped just at the corner, Tom and Avery doing the same.

Professor Slughorn waved from his room, the portly wizard looking flustered. "Professor Dumbledore would like you to stop by his office for a second today for a quick chat, when you feel like it! No rush! Just as soon as you can!"

Harry held back a grimace and nodded. "Yes, Professor." He turned to his dorm mates as the door shutting echoed down the candlelit walls. "I think I'll just go up there now, I'll see you guys in a bit," he said, turning away and waving when Avery called out a goodbye, a tension already making itself known in his chest.

* * *

"How about we do something, are you guys up for some flying?" Harry asked as he set down his leather bag on the floor by the trunk at the end of his bed, having just gotten back from his 'quick chat' with Dumbledore, which had been anything but.

Harry flung open the piece of luggage that didn't belong to him and crouched down, and he began digging through it immediately for a certain item. The old wizard had wanted to know about his fainting spell, he'd told him solicitously, while offering him a kind smile and a silver tray of chocolate covered crickets. The transfiguration professor had been nice enough, but he'd seemed just mostly interested in Harry's missing memories, and how he was getting along with his new dorm mates more than answering any of his questions.

_"And Tom?" the professor pressed, when Harry said he and Avery were getting along well._

_"Yes, he's a little... standoffish," Harry said with a slight frown, "but nice." He shifted in his seat, glancing over to the empty bird stand, the Phoenix nowhere in sight. "Sir, if I might ask.. I'm obviously not from this... this time, seeing as how I was a Gryffindor but no one knows me-"_

The wizard had listened politely but at the end had only offered an understanding smile and told him he was still working out the specifics, and that his memories and any objects he might have brought would _really_ be the most helpful way to work everything out.

Then there was Tom's response from the day before that'd embedded itself into his annoyingly empty mind. _I'm not the best person to ask that._ The statement hadn't reeked of hatred towards the professor, more so resentment... or distrust or something—

"Are you sure you feel up to that? You were out for a good few minutes in Potions," Avery said, cutting into the wizard's thoughts, sounding hesitant but still interested, as he made his way over to drop onto Harry's bed. The blond leaned over the foot of it to see what he was digging for so aggressively. "You looking for something?"

Harry stopped, his fingertips touching cool metal, and he let out a held breath. He left it under the piles of clothes, pulling out a black hoodie instead and holding it up in answer. "I feel fine now," he said and shot a glance over to Tom, who was standing by his bed and who'd been notably quiet ever since class.

"What do you say, Tom?" Avery asked.

Grey eyes blinked, suddenly focusing, as if the wizard's thoughts had been elsewhere. "Maybe next time, I need to go to the library before curfew." Harry's bag tipped over, and then Nagini was slithering out of it, and the tall wizard's lips pressed together, pulling to the right faintly.

Avery laughed, standing up, pulling out the joint excuse Slughorn had written up for them. "But we've just been excused from classes for the _entire day_ , and Slughorn wrote we could miss tomorrow morning's too if we needed so we could 'tend to Harry,'" he said emphatically, shooting Tom an insistent look. "You haven't gone flying any this year yet, and I've still got those bottles of firewhiskey from your birthday."

"Avery..." Tom hesitated.

Harry stood and scrubbed at midnight locks as he held back a sudden grin, looking between the two wizards, Tom appearing like he wanted to do anything but what the blond was asking, and Avery looking like he knew it but didn't care.

"Come on, just this once," Avery persisted, "It'll be fun, and maybe we can even help Harry jog his memory by doing some more exciting things."

The tall wizard's gaze flicked back over at that. "All right," he said slowly, "but only if we wait until after sunset, when no one is out there."

* * *

Harry found himself walking silently beside Tom as they made their way an hour later out towards the Black Lake, the grounds bare of other students with classes in session. The sky above was a greyish hue, a decent layering of clouds keeping it from being too warm, and a cool breeze ruffled the wizard's hair that told of the coming changing of seasons. He'd found out it was the second of September, 1943.

The three wizards had hung around the dorm for a while, changing into more casual clothes and then had moved out into the empty Slytherin common room, giving the hallways time to clear completely from the next class change before Avery had volunteered to get them lunch, since Harry was 'too under the weather' to make it up. Harry smiled faintly at the memory. He was admittedly somewhat relieved at having another day off from classes and classmates. He was still trying to get used to just his two dorm mates, let alone a room full of unknown wizards. It was a little overwhelming.

Tom slowed at a tall tree just yards from the lake's edge, the pale wizard moving under its leafy coverage despite the sun nowhere to be found. He sat down, leaning his back against its dark trunk as he settled his bag in the grass beside him.

Harry took a seat across from him and looked back up at the castle for any sign of Avery.

"You can come out."

Harry's head swiveled back at the unexpected hissed words, and then he watched as Nagini's triangular head poked out from under the leather flap of the wizard's messenger bag. Her forked tongue flicked out, up then down, tasting the air, and then she was slipping out further and lowering to the ground in one fluid movement. "Hello again Harry."

Harry found himself smiling down at the patterned green snake. "Hello Nagini."

The snake turned her attention to her owner. "I'm hungry."

Tom's lips quirked up on one side, amused. "Are you?"

The snake seemed to think about that. "Yes-s."

The tall wizard shot a sweeping look around the empty grounds. "All right, but don't be long, we won't be out here for more than an hour."

"I won't."

Harry watched with a small smile as the snake slid over soft green grass and around fallen turning leaves silently slipping behind the tree and out of sight.

"Lying is necessary sometimes, wouldn't you agree?"

Emerald eyes flicked up to find slate ones meeting them straight on. "...I'm sorry?"

The wizard held his gaze a short moment before saying, "She's lying. She's not hungry, she just ate yesterday. She just wants to explore the grounds."

Harry blinked a few times, brows pulling. "Oh..."

"I'm not supposed to let her go off unless she needs to eat, school policy. Only for her though, all of the other familiars have free reign," Tom said, his calm expression unwavering.

"But why?" Harry asked.

Tom's lips toyed with some expression then. "Fear, I'd guess. Most wizards don't like her."

Harry frowned. "But she's so friendly."

The Slytherin smiled at that. "She's friendly to those she likes," he qualified. "It helps you can talk to her," he said, and then more slowly, "It's very... interesting... to hear someone else speak it, parseltongue - that is, don't you think?"

Harry cleared his throat, something behind the words doing something funny to his chest, and he found it tightening a little as a sudden heat from within prickled at it, the wizard's quiet grey eyes still holding his gaze effortlessly. There was something about them, Harry found, even when they were calm, there was an intensity behind them that bled through. "I guess, I've never really thought about it," he said honestly.

"Do you know how you got that scar?" Tom asked, lifting his chin as he eyed Harry's forehead.

Harry's hand ran up to push down black bangs as he thought about the question, searching through the dense fog that was his memories, and the skin cornering his right eye pinched up as he struggled to remember. "I - I think I've always had it," he said, then paused, unhappy with the answer, and he felt more sure as he added, "No, I think since I was a baby."

Tom nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "Does it bother you ever?"

Harry's frown deepened at the question he'd gotten now twice that day, feeling agitated. "No. Never," he said firmly. 

And then there was a loud shout from up the hill, and both wizards' attention shot up to greet it. There was a group of four wizards dressed in just slacks and shirts, no ties to be found, loudly making their way towards the lake. Suddenly a translucent shimmering curtain began to fall from the leaves above, making a glimmering wall surrounding the tree and the two wizards beneath as it touched the grass.

Harry started to reach out. "What-"

"It's a privacy wall," was said before his fingers could touch, and Harry's hand dropped as he turned to look at the wizard, who had his wand out. "I didn't figure you'd want to meet the Gryffindors just yet."

"Well, look what we have here boys!" was crowed in a thick Irish lilt, and Tom pushed himself up immediately, Harry following suit as the tall wizard made his way to the wall, a familiar head of blond hair suddenly visible.

"If it isn't Benjamin Avery, where's your best mate, Riddle, has he left you all on your own?" one of the other Gryffindors asked, a lean wizard with freckles and red hair, sounding terribly pleased by the prospect.

"You can stay if you want," Tom murmured by Harry's side, his sharp gaze pinned on the four wizards, wand ready, and then he stepped out through the shimmering wall.

Harry stood for only a second before pulling his own wand out and following.

"I'm right here, Finnigan," Tom said politely, and the four Gryffindors shifted immediately as one to face both the approaching blond and the two unexpected dark-haired wizards. "Do you need something?" he asked with a slight lifting of his brows.

The ringleader of the four wizards looked taken aback, but then his expression quickly contorted into a sneer. "Hiding just like a snake, were ya?" And the wizards behind him eyed Harry with a wary expression.

"Yes, _just_ like a snake, you've caught me," Tom said, sounding bored, "Shouldn't you four be in class?"

* * *

"I swear to Salazar, you have to try out for the team, you're bloody amazing. We'd win the cup for sure."

Harry laughed, the cool air soothing his tired lungs. He sat on a bleacher, halfway up the stands overlooking a darkened Quidditch pitch. Three just discarded brooms sat in a line to his right like steps, each on their own row. Avery was sitting sideways and one bench below him a little to his left, and on the same bench but a few feet further down sat Tom, whose back was to him as he looked out on the pitch. The wizard scrubbed at his hair, a flush trying to creep up the back of his neck, and the crimson and gold robes he'd pushed aside to grab a hoodie earlier that day forced its way to the forefront of his mind. "I don't know, maybe," he said hesitantly.

Avery grinned up at him slyly. "You'd have to burn those Gryffindor robes first though, because Nott would lose it if he ever found out about them."

"Yeah..." Harry said, recalling the event from earlier, the unpleasant interaction with the Gryffindor wizard, Finnigan, having felt somehow familiar. The four Gryffindors, while having insisted they'd meant no harm after Avery had reached them, had walked off looking rather unhappy.

"Do you play Seeker?"

Harry looked up, surprised at the question, not because of the content but because of who had said it. "I'm sorry?"

Tom sat turned, looking at him. "What position do you play?"

Harry blinked, a golden snitch flashing before his mind's eye. "Oh. Yeah, I played Seeker."

"For Gryffindor."

Harry frowned a little at the words, because they sounded almost accusing. Avery shifted on the bench below him but said nothing, instead taking a first drink from one of the bottles of firewhiskey they'd brought. "Yeah-"

"Because you were a Gryffindor."

"Tom-"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry straightened in his seat, his expression tensing.

The tall wizard did something then that surprised him; he smiled at him. "I'm sorry, I just think it's funny."

Avery remained silent, shooting Tom a look of bewilderment, and Harry tried to decide if he was offended.

"Do you know how upset Gryffindor House would be by all this?" The blond laughed at that, and Harry found himself softening. "It serves them right, I hate that House."

Harry found himself grinning despite himself, and Avery was laughing harder.

"Here Harry," the blond wizard said with a grin, offering up a bottle as he double fisted, and Harry took it hesitantly. "Tom." He watched Tom take the last of the opened bottles, eye it dubiously, and then Avery spoke up again. "A toast," he declared, and Harry found his lips turning up again, "To not being in Gryffindor!"

Three bottles clinked together, the sound echoing high in the stands.


	9. Chapter 9

Tom sat, looking out on a ghostly pitch, a chill breeze skating dead leaves far below across frosted blades of grass and ruffling the midnight locks atop his head. The collar of his dark grey jacket stood upright, keeping the biting air from sneaking inside, alcohol buzzed unpleasantly in his veins; he wanted to leave.

Avery and the new wizard were talking animatedly about quidditch, his own thoughts elsewhere. Something odd had happened in Potions earlier that day, and he still couldn't explain it. He needed to go to the library, possibly talk to Slughorn if he couldn't—

"Are you serious?" Harry asked, letting out a surprised laugh.

"Very, you see...-"

The tall wizard focused down to the bench on which his feet were resting, just barely able to make out the knots and lines in the natural plank of wood without the aid of the full moon. It was cloudy, his wand resting cold against his forearm inside his right sleeve.

He clenched the chilled fingers of his left hand and then unclenched them, splaying them tensely and then repeated the pumping action once more, refusing to look up at the dark-haired wizard when he laughed again, the sound warmer, and he swallowed, his throat tight, as his breaths began to come in silent shortened strides.

Avery's easy laughter filled the air, joining the wizard's.

He let out a silent exhale between tightly held lips, the muscles of his upper back and shoulders tightening as old memories that weren't old enough tried to push to the forefront of his alcohol-compromised mind. He shouldn't have drank, he'd known it was a bad idea, that he needed to maintain control at all times. It was all Harry Potter's fault.

 _Harry Potter_.

His gaze darkened, lips pulling back in a sneer, the name grating against him. He should have _never_ touched the odd-looking scar on the wizard's forehead. It was clearly a curse of some sort, and his fingertips  _still_ hadn't stopped buzzing where he'd grazed it earlier that day in an odd state not able to stop himself. He clenched the fingers of his left hand tighter when the feeling refused to ebb, not wanting a repeat, because when he'd first seen the wizard's scar, he'd been drawn to it. It had been like nothing he'd experienced before, like it was calling to him.

Grey eyes narrowed, unseen in the dark; something had _passed_ between them upon contact. He'd felt it. It hadn't felt exactly like magic, but something else... and he could _still_ feel where it had been inside his chest, like it had shot inside of him for a second and left an imprint.

He shouldn't have saved the wizard when he had started to fall and instead of his knees giving out beneath him, he'd fallen towards their table and their potion. But he had. And he didn't know why.

He leaned forward, resting elbows on his legs, and clenched his jaw when a breeze blew across the nape of his exposed neck, and the dampness of his skin amplified its icy touch, a mental picture of a man who he'd looked so much like, but older than him, flashing in his mind unexpectedly. His eyes fell shut as he rested his forehead in his hands. He wouldn't think of that, not now.

The wizard let out another slow breath as he sat, trying to reign in his rogue thoughts.

"All right, Tom?"

Grey eyes flicked to the right sharply. Tom straightened up, his lungs tight, as he found the dark-haired wizard traipsing towards him, Avery once more on his broom. He forced a slow exhale, ignoring the phantom buzzing in his fingertips that flared to life with a vengeance as Harry settled down on the bleacher beside him, scrubbing at midnight locks and exposing again the lightning-shaped scar just under his bangs that had been completely hidden the past couple days. He said nothing, and Harry turned his attention to the pitch not seeming to mind.

The wild-haired wizard broke into a grin as he watched Avery fly around the pitch at a neck-breaking speed. "He's _really_ good. Why isn't he on the team?"

Tom stood up immediately, his entire body agitated and misfiring, and he sneered, flashing gleaming white teeth. "I don't know what you think we are, Harry, but we are _not_ friends," he said and then walked off, grabbing up his broom and leaving a surprised Harry behind him.

* * *

"Shit," Harry mumbled as he dug through his trunk for the third time that day, shirtless, his top abandoned on the floor beside him. He stopped a second, having to remind himself what he was doing again. Clothes, right. He let out a small laugh. He'd drank far too much.

Tom stood by his own trunk, fully dressed for the night in a soft, fitted grey shirt and black silk pants, arms crossed. He watched the wizard, who'd been clearly ignoring his presence ever since they'd arrived back in the dorm, close his trunk and then stumble a step to the side as he stood back up with a black t-shirt and green flannel pajama pants in tow. Running water sounded behind the bathroom door, Avery having just turned it on.

Tom's lips pressed together in a tight line as he remembered his friend and Harry walking back from the pitch, Avery's arm having been wrapped around his shoulders for the entirety of it. Something about it hadn't sat right with him.

An odd feeling in the tall wizard's chest began to rise, pinching uncomfortably. "Avery is my friend," he said without warning.

Harry looked over at that, black brows lifted. He said nothing.

Tom took a step forward, his wand suddenly in his hand, the feeling not going away. "And Nagini is my familiar."

The wizard visibly tensed at that. "Is that so?" he asked.

Tom smiled slowly, showing perfectly straight teeth. "It is. And do you know who you are, Harry Potter?"

Harry appeared to think for a moment. "No, why don't you tell me?"

Tom stalked towards him, stopping with his wand's tip only inches from the wizard's chest, and he sneered down at him as he pointedly ignored the scar peeking out tauntingly from dark bangs. "Someone I don't trust."

Harry held his gaze. "Good to know."

Tom shifted closer, his voice lowering as he said, "I don't care what Avery thinks of you, you will not earn my trust."

Harry laughed sharply, looking bemused but not worried. "I wasn't going to try."

Grey eyes narrowed, and the taller wizard shifted even closer, feeling something begin to warm the air between them as they stood far too close, the wild-haired wizard not batting an eye or looking away. "There's something off about you," he said, quietly.

Harry wet suddenly dry lips, and grey eyes darted down to catch the action. "Is that all?"

"No," Tom said, as he hovered just over the wizard's lips, noting that he wasn't moving away. And then he felt the space heat even more, thickening, pulling him in closer.

He stopped himself as glazed green eyes slowly fell shut, and a soft puff of air brushed his lips teasingly, and he realized something. He wanted him. How was that possible? He had to be imagining it. But before he could decide what to do, the decision was made for him—Lips pressed forward and touched his. 

* * *

They were kissing. Tom's mind knew this to be a fact and didn't agree with it in the least, but his body was moving along without its approval.

His hands grabbed onto hips that were set a few inches lower than his, and his mouth parted when his pulse sped up, his head cocking to the side, and then his tongue was skating firmly along the seam of lips that split eagerly under the silent demand.

Tom felt warm fingers trail up his shoulders and settle gently onto his neck, like they were allowed, and the air in his lungs began to expand and press harder at his chest as his tongue met the wizard's in an intimate touch. A hand then slid up the side of his neck and into his hair, and his own fingers suddenly tightened their grip on bare hips, the wand in his right hand digging into his palm and he was sure the sensitive skin beneath as he breathed in the wizard's soft protesting groan - and he gripped harder.

"MmMm." Harry's left hand grabbed onto his right wrist, and tugged at it, and Tom's mouth broke from his, only to hover just over still parted lips, as he dug the wand deeper into the wizard's side in response, inhaling his unsteady exhales and staring down directly into intense green eyes.

"Is that uncomfortable?" he asked, his words quiet but pointed, and his lips curled up, grey eyes cold, when the wizard's left hand fell away from his wrist almost as if it had forgotten what it was doing, and then Harry's gaze began to harden, like Emerald Potion crystallizing, a dark look overtaking the wizard's expression he'd yet to see. His lips twitched, and he tightened his grip even more.

"No," the wizard said, his voice undeniably tense but clipped, and he didn't pull away.

"I see..." And Tom began to slide his right hand up along heated skin, increasing the pressure as he deliberately rolled the side of his wand, that had begun to hum with anticipation under his touch, into the sensitive area with little padding, until it dropped off the cliff of the wizard's hip sharply and earned a slight flinch when it pressed more deeply into softer flesh. The wild-haired wizard sucked in the shared air between them in an audible gasp, the sound low and agitated, and a thrill shot up through Tom's spine, and want began to pool somewhere lower as the wizard continued to stay, his breathing suddenly rough. Harry's hand slid back down onto his neck.

Tom breathed out slowly as he held perfectly still, the muscles of his neck coiling under the light touch; then he dipped his chin, leaning down and in, when his chest filled too much once more, green eyes falling shut, and his tense words, barely above a whisper, ghosted across the wizard's cheek. "I don't like being touched, Harry."

The foreign hand finally fell from Tom's neck in understanding, and he released his own grip.

"...Sorry," the wizard said hesitantly, and he took a step back, looking unsure, his chest rising with each quick inhale and his stomach muscles flexing with each jerky exhale. "I didn't know, I'm sorry."

Tom watched the wizard carefully as he took his own step back, the shower water having shut off, and he could hear Avery moving around the bathroom, everything he did considerably louder than usual. He inclined his chin in a slight nod, and then turned away.


	10. Chapter 10

_A twelve-year-old Tom stood once more in a narrow room that smelled strongly of cleaning supplies, the acrid smell turning his empty stomach, his entire body feeling like it wanted to catch fire just to escape._

_A cot that had been too short ever since the wizard had hit eleven years of age sat in one dreary corner atop a black metal frame, the thin old mattress exposed, and a faded grey, scratchy blanket was folded at its foot. No pillow this time._

_He walked over to the tall wardrobe that stood pushed up against one of the long walls, his back facing a graffiti-carved student desk, with a wobbly chair sat pushed up under it. He took in a slow breath as his hand settled on the wardrobe's door and then pulled it open. He let out a silent exhale of relief, all of his allowed belongings already there, but then the feeling quickly turned sour at the sound of crying from the nursery just a few doors down. He still didn't have his texts or bedding, and his wand was off limits for even the slightest of uses._

_He closed the door to his room quietly and made his way to the only bed he could remember outside of Hogwarts, and lowered down onto it, the mattress creaking and dipping until he could feel metal springs. He lifted his feet up, his shoes still on, and curled onto his side away from the door and the sounds, drifting deeper into his mind and blocking them out; it would only get louder as the night progressed. He stared at faded red bricks, the dark window above sharing the same scenery, and his lips tingled, his entire body feeling thankfully numb._

_"Get up! Come on! Get up you little freak!"_

_Laughter echoed sharply in a thirteen-year-old Tom's head as he looked down at the blood dripping into his hand, trailing down the lines of his palm to collect in the puddle at its center, his nose throbbing as he sat in dirt, the ground around him dry and cracked, starving for water. And then his right side exploded in pain, and he was lying down and rolling onto his stomach to escape, but four sets of shoes followed him mercilessly._

_"He said get up, you stupid shit! You're not so tough anymore, are you?"_

_The wizard covered his head to protect his face and closed his eyes, the air around him shifting and an odd pressure filled his ears, like there suddenly wasn't enough space somehow for everything around him—_

_"You wanted to speak with me, Tom?"_

_Grey eyes opened._

_A fifteen-year-old Tom sat just two weeks before school was to end inside the transfiguration professor's office, Headmaster Dippet absent from the grounds for two months now with no promise of returning before the semester was to end. The tall wizard ignored the clenching in his chest and responded in a politely quiet voice as he sat in the chair across from the unsmiling wizard._

_"Yes, Professor, I was hoping that my request I put in at the beginning of term to stay this summer at Hogwarts would be approved. I've spoken with Professor Slughorn, and he has said that he is more than willing to be responsible for me so long as I help with potions work for the duration."_

_The bearded professor nodded slowly at that. "Yes, Horace has talked to me regarding this-"_

_"So I can stay?" the fifth-year Slytherin asked in an uncharacteristic rush, leaning forward, his hands gripping the armrests of his seat. He ignored a sudden odd pressure in the air around him, his ears ringing._

_The older wizard leaned forward in his own chair, his elbows resting on the desk between them, hands clasped, and he let out a held breath that had the younger wizard's mood diving immediately. "Unfortunately not, although Professor Slughorn was very generous in his offer, he will have to be away on several occasions over the break, and it's just not possible-"_

_Tom nodded in understanding, fury welling defiantly in his chest, the wizard's words no longer important, and the ringing in his ears continued to grow as he stood, the air around him oddly tight - and then he felt someone. He turned around with a start to find wide green eyes staring back at him._

"Harry."


	11. Chapter 11

Grey eyes shot open, and Tom was sitting up, green curtains closed around him as he searched, his lungs heaving for air. He was in bed.

He looked down, finding himself still dressed in just black pajama pants, nothing out of the ordinary.

The wizard let out a jagged breath and ran a hand over his eyes, covering them, his entire body tensed, refusing to relax, and he leaned over, putting his swimming head between his legs when he felt like he might be sick.

It had felt like it was actually happening all over again... and it had felt like someone else had been there too, watching. Familiar green eyes pulled to the front of his mind—

A startled noise drew the wizard's head back up, and he was peering between cracked curtains at the bed directly across from him to find like-colored drapes pulling open with a jerk.

" _Shit_ ," Harry cursed in a whisper, the wizard looking as disoriented as Tom felt, and then he watched on as the wild-haired wizard touched a hand to his forehead before sucking in a hiss and pulling it back. The wizard swung his legs over the edge and then was walking unsteadily across wooden floor boards and towards the bathroom.

Tom watched the door click silently behind his new dorm-mate, and then grey eyes narrowed.

* * *

Harry splashed cold water on his face a few times, the skin above his right eye stinging in protest. He planted wet palms on the slick porcelain sink in front of him, holding himself up with shaky arms, and he slowly looked up into the mirror before him, squinting when his head protested vehemently at the too upright position. The scar on his forehead was a bright, angry red, and he was pale.

He had awoken not five minutes before to the sound of Tom saying his name. At least, he thought he had. The wizard looked back down to find water still running full force, splashing viciously up against white walls, and he turned the silver knob with a tired hand as he tried to remember what had happened. He'd been dreaming, he had to have been, but it had felt so real, like a memory... but not his.

The wizard grabbed the white hand cloth draped over the sink's edge in front of him and patted his face and bangs dry. He lowered the towel slowly, several crimson lightning marks staring back up at him, and he couldn't help but picture an obviously younger Tom watching his own blood drip into his hand, appearing fascinated. Then the mental picture of an older and visibly upset Tom, standing in Professor Dumbledore's office materialized. He'd taken a few steps forward, and the wizard had turned around like he'd known he was there, and he'd said his name. Had he known Tom before, were they memories, was everyone lying to him? The wizard hadn't said they knew each other, but he remembered feeling like they did when he'd first seen him in the dorm. He tried to pull the wizard's face from his hidden thoughts.

His forehead throbbed violently in protest, and he closed his eyes, a groan escaping his lips, and something akin to anger welled in his chest viciously—

"All right, Harry?"

Green eyes shot open, and Harry found himself taking a surprised step back at seeing the dark-haired wizard he'd just been thinking about standing only a few feet away from him, shirtless. He stopped when he bumped into the sink behind him, a mixture of confusing emotions attacking him. "I'm sorry?"

"Something got you up?" The tall wizard paused, trailing his tongue along the inside of his cheek as he observed his silent dorm-mate. He looked - agitated - still. "Bad dream?" he asked with a solicitous lift of pitch-dark brows.

Harry shot him a surprised look. "No," he lied right away, and something pinched in his chest. He diverted his gaze down to his bare feet, that were getting colder by the second as they heated grey stones beneath. "You?"

"Night terrors."

Green eyes jerked up at that. "What about?" the wizard blurted.

Tom let out a soft laugh. "You actually want to know?"

Harry held back a grimace, because he really did. "If you want to tell me," he said in a more even voice.

The wizard's chest rose slowly and then fell with a heavy exhale. "Just memories from bad times. Ones I'd rather not remember, or recount." He dipped his chin, carefully studying the wizard's reaction. "No offense."

Harry shook his head dismissively. "No, it's fine. Sorry 'bout that."

Tom shrugged one shoulder. "So what's got you up?"

"Too much firewhiskey," he said lamely, and he lifted his left hand to rub at his opposite arm and shoulder as guilt niggled at his chest, and he tried to decide what he could say that wasn't a lie.

He did need to talk to someone and to have some questions answered, because it was really starting to get to him not knowing how exactly he fit into the world he'd found himself tossed into or being able to talk about his possible memories. Dumbledore didn't seem to want to answer anything - just be told - and that didn't set well with Harry for some reason. Then there was Avery, who was exceptionally nice, but he was pretty sure the wizard would have told him already had he known him or anything about him. Plus, he didn't feel comfortable telling the blond Slytherin anything regarding his possible memories, because, well, because he _was_  so nice, and his memories were anything but.

Then there was the wizard standing in the bathroom with him right then, in the middle of the night, who had only helped him despite his sometimes cold demeanor, who didn't seem like he'd be fazed by anything, of whom he'd just had possible memories - and who he'd kissed in a drunken stupor earlier... He'd think about that later though. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Harry turned his attention back up and onto the tall wizard, who appeared to be waiting patiently for him to speak up. "You. You and I." He swallowed hard, and Tom cocked his head slightly, his expression unchanging. "Had we ever - ever met.. before last week, that is?"

Tom eyed Harry carefully. "Why do you ask?"

Harry perked up at that, and he took an unconscious step forward. "I feel like, like I know you, from somewhere." He took another step toward him. "Did we know each other, before I lost my memory?"

Grey eyes flicked to damp bangs that were split, exposing the wizard's scar, fresh blood drying. It had reopened. Odd. "No," Tom said, and the wizard's expression began to drop, "I'd never met you before you showed up in the dorm. But perhaps that shouldn't be so surprising..."

Harry frowned slightly, and he shifted back on his heels, putting extra space between them when he realized how close he'd gotten. "Why's that?"

Tom blinked. "Because you're from the future, right?"

Harry took a small step back, and Tom took a compensatory one forward. "Come again?"

Tom smiled faintly. "Don't worry, Harry, your secret's safe with me."

"How do you know that?" Harry asked, hesitantly.

"What other explanation is there for your presence than time travel?" Harry said nothing. "And the future makes the most sense, considering everything. You must know me, but I do not know you yet," he said, meeting vivid green eyes that he couldn't delve behind, yet, "It would seem we've just met a bit earlier than was meant on my part."

Harry swallowed, his throat dry, the wizard's simple explanation putting him somewhat at ease. "I've been having memories... I think," he said, then more quickly as if an important afterthought, "I'm not _sure_ though."

Tom nodded slowly. "And why's that?" he prodded, quietly.

Harry grimaced. "They just, don't _seem_ like things I'd do. They seem wrong. Very wrong."

The tall wizard stood silent for a few seconds, and then said, "Then perhaps you should keep them to yourself until you're certain."

Harry nodded slightly at that, and then he remembered what else had forced him from his bed other than the disorienting dream. "Tom," he paused, looking away from the half-dressed wizard, suddenly feeling incredibly stupid.

Why had he kissed him? He didn't even know him, not to mention that they'd been arguing when he'd felt the unexpected urge to either hex him or kiss him. For some reason he'd chosen the latter.

He rubbed at the back of his neck roughly when it began to prickle with heat. "I'm sorry about tonight, I don't know what I was thinking, I was really pissed up." He felt the taller wizard shift forward at that, and he was looking up into close grey eyes, an unexpected intensity behind them making his breath hitch.

"Why are you sorry?"

Harry's eyes widened. "Uh. I. Well, because you said you didn't, you know..." He trailed off awkwardly.

Tom moved even closer, and suddenly Harry felt like he couldn't breathe as efficiently as they shared the small amount of air between them. The tall wizard found himself staring down at defined stomach muscles within reach. "I said I don't like being touched, because I don't. That's all."

"Ah..." Harry cleared his throat, brows furrowing, and he fought a frown as he started to speak again to bring up the other obvious point; that he'd kissed him immediately after being told he wasn't trusted or quite possibly liked by the tall Slytherin. "I-"

"Goodnight, Harry," was said shortly, and then Tom was walking off, leaving the bemused wizard standing in the middle of the bathroom alone.


	12. Chapter 12

"Hello, Harry, is it?"

Harry looked up from his text in Transfiguration to find himself meeting almond-shaped brown eyes. He hesitated, scrubbing at wild black locks, when the Scottish lilt reverberated in his mind with a hum of familiarity, a witch wearing a blue and bronze striped tie standing before him. He glanced around the almost full room, Professor Dumbledore not present yet, before saying, "Yes... and you are...?" _Chang_.

"I'm Huiliang Chang," she said, smiling at him shyly, "welcome to Hogwarts."

Harry cleared his throat, Avery bumping his arm with his elbow, and he spoke back up. "Thank you."

The witch smiled again, clasping her hands in front of her. "I hear you're a transfer student from Durmstrang?"

Harry blinked. "Ah-"

"Yes, Harry just got here over the weekend, arrived by portkey," Avery spoke up for him smoothly. "He's still trying to get settled in."

" _Oh_." The witch nodded eagerly at that, and Harry felt his mind begin to buzz weirdly. "Well if you need someone to ever show you 'round or help with your homework..."

"Avery. Harry," was said smoothly, and a familiar body settled down beside the distracted wizard. "Chang..."

"Oh uh. Uh. He-hello, Tom," was said, the witch stuttering as her cheeks flushed, and she took a small step back from their table, blinking rapidly as she looked away. "Goo-good to meet you, Harry, I'll see you 'round," she said, continuing to back up.

"Yeah, see you," Harry mumbled distractedly as the witch turned away, his mind working overtime. Did he know her younger sister, her niece, grandniece? Frustration niggled at his chest, and then an image of almost identical eyes and uncannily similar features flashed before his mind, then an empty room - and lips, up close, touching. "Cho..."

"What's that?"

Harry blinked, jerked from the thoughts he'd sunken into completely. He glanced around him, finding Avery on his left, shooting him a curious look. "Oh, nothing," he said abruptly and then turned away to find Tom on his right, sitting with his book out, the tall wizard leaned half over it, appearing absorbed in reading, his jaw flexed.

"Good morning, students," Professor Dumbledore said cheerily, the grey-bearded professor making his way down the aisle and towards the front of the room, the class falling silent. "Today we will begin learning the basics of human transfiguration. Please repeat after me: _Crinus Muto_."

Harry held back a frown as he parroted the words along with the rest of the class that was made up of Slytherins and Ravenclaws, and then he glanced over at Tom again as the professor happily began to go into detail regarding all the perils of practicing human transfiguration.

* * *

 _Some magical wounds may not heal properly, such as in the case of werewolf_ —

Tom flipped the page of _Magical Maladies That Fester_. Harry's cut had been fully healed, that wasn't relevant.

**_Curse-Brided Wounds_ **

_It has been theorized that a wizard whom is cursed, a mark, such as a scar, in certain cases could be left behind if the magic is somehow embedded, appearing healed but when the magic that was 'left behind' is excited or activated, the wound would re-open. The birth of this theory can be dated back to a plethora of rumored whisperings amongst the Healer community to such incidents during the 'Grindewald years' although there were never any actual documented cases. Whether this was due to the inability to prove the cause, or other reasons completely, has not been established._

_The cause for concern with these claims by the magical community if founded would be many, but most likely the most pressing - what type of magic had been inserted, and to what end? Any spell that could be stored in an object could theoretically be placed in a wizard as shown by Honeyduke's owner, Ciceron Harkiss, when spelling a batch of chocolate frogs and accidentally hitting his own hand—_

Tom closed the book, staring down at its worn, brown leather binding as he sat alone after dinner. The table where the dark-haired Slytherin sat was situated in the corner nearest the Restricted Section of the library. It was almost curfew; he had left Avery and Harry in the dorm just an hour before to go to the library, the two wizards having been sitting on Harry's bed laughing at the wild-haired wizard's lackluster response that morning to the sixth-year Ravenclaw, Huiliang Chang, who seemed to have quite the thing for the new Slytherin.

The tall wizard thought over what he knew. Harry was from the future, and he knew it was a considerable amount too, considering what he'd found in the genealogy text over the weekend, most likely around fifty years. Yet, curiously, he seemed to recognize Tom by how he looked now. His right hand slipped under the table and into his front slacks' pocket, and he found himself fiddling with the ring he hadn't even realized he'd brought with him. A surge of warmth tingled at his fingertips as he traced the smooth inside of its shank. He needed to give it back to Avery for keeping. If Harry had been cursed, and his scar had broken open in the middle of the night... His dreams, were they consequential, had Harry actually been there, in his mind? If so, he'd looked surprised, like he hadn't intentionally done so or anticipated it. What was the link?

The wizard had admitted to having 'memories,' but he'd also claimed they hadn't seemed like things he would do. He'd been privy to one of them. Dead eyes recalled themselves for the wizard's perusal. Harry Potter was a powerful wizard. Perhaps the curse controlled him somehow. It could explain his confusion and anxiety, or perhaps something terrible had happened that had spurned the seemingly unfathomable behavior the wizard couldn't reconcile without all his memories intact; he had said both his parents had been murdered, maybe that was just the tip of the iceberg for the wizard.

He needed a better look at the scar, maybe touch it again... and he needed a way to make sure Harry didn't venture too far as well so he could keep a close watch on him, in case he began to remember more. The Ravenclaw, whom many thought to be _very_ pretty, came to mind, and grey eyes darkened. No, it wouldn't do to have the wizard distracted.

* * *

A quidditch magazine lay open in Harry's lap as he sat on his bed in sleep clothes, late Tuesday night, the wizard trying to relax after a long day of classes and meeting new people... who didn't feel so new.

The Slytherin dorm was silent and dimly lit, a half-melted green candle mounted in a silver sconce with serpent detailing on the wall by Harry's bed the only source of light in the otherwise empty dorm. He'd found it difficult to focus in class, and even more difficult to relax when outside of class. He and Avery had been getting along well enough, the blond exceptionally easy going, and he and Tom hadn't had any further arguments.

Harry's gaze unfocused as he thought about his latter dorm-mate. Tom Riddle, he knew him, but how, he still didn't know. Their kiss from the night before refreshed itself for him unhelpfully, and something in his chest niggled, and he scratched at it idly as the door opened quietly.

"Hello, Harry."

"Hey Tom," the wizard said, looking up. Black brows pinched together, as he studied the tall wizard standing just inside the dorm alone. "Where's Avery?"

"On a _date_ with Lestrange," Tom said pointedly, arching his own midnight brows in response. He made his way to his own bed, lifting the strap of his bag over his head and then setting the leather carrying case atop its green duvet, hissing under his breath to tell Nagini to stay put.

Harry set down the magazine on the bed beside him distractedly as the tall wizard then began to stroll towards him unexpectedly. "Oh. A date, here... in the castle?" he asked.

Tom stopped at that, standing just in front of the wizard's bed, and he cocked a smirk. "That was Avery's wording, not mine."

"Ah..." Harry cleared his throat then and looked away, a flush running up the back of his neck, and he rubbed at it.

"Reading up on 'current' quidditch?"

Harry looked back up, surprised at the solicitous words. He let out a small laugh. "Yeah. What've you been up to?"

Tom gave a shrug as he lowered down to sit sideways on the edge of the wizard's bed. He glanced over at the window into the Black Lake, just catching a glimpse of something as it swam by. "Just got back from the library." His gaze flicked down then at the space between them, only an inch of green sheet separating Harry's leg from his hip. "You were welcome to join me."

Harry shifted on the bed. "Oh. Well, I just thought you'd said-"

"I don't trust people easily, Harry," the tall wizard said abruptly, cutting off the unnecessary explanation. He knew what he'd said.

Harry's jaw tried to drop, but he caught it. He wrapped his arms around his knees, clasping his fingers loosely, and his right pinky fiddled with the soft material covering his shins. He nodded. "I figured," he finally said, at a loss for anything else, and feeling a similar sentiment echoing somewhere in his own hidden thoughts.

Tom's lips twitched at the corners. "I don't dislike you though..."

Harry huffed a breath, his chin dropping to hide a hint of a smile. "That's good to know." They sat quietly, Tom not moving, Harry toying with his pants leg.

"You're attracted to me?"

Harry froze. "I'm sorry?"

"You kissed me. So you're attracted to me, correct?"

Harry coughed, and he rubbed at the back of his neck. "I. Yeah, I suppose."

Tom nodded and shifted slightly closer. "I'd like to get off with you."

Green eyes widened, and they shot up to meet intense grey ones. " _What_?" Harry forced out, his throat suddenly dry as the wizard turned to face him more fully, shifting on top his bed and toward him.

"W-what?" he asked again, even as he found himself reclining, a silent Tom proceeding to move closer and over top of him, straddling his hips, their bodies just barely not touching.

"I don't like repeating myself. Are you interested?" Tom said as he held himself just over Harry, who after a moment's pause nodded hesitantly in response. "Good," he said quietly, and his gaze began to run over the wizard beneath him. He was wearing Slytherin-green pants and a nicely fitted white t-shirt, the latter bunched up a little to show a glimpse of smooth skin.

Tom shifted to lean on just his left hand, and his right slipped down between them, Harry's breaths becoming more shallow at a simple touch of the wizard's shirt hem. He began to nudge up the thin material with the outside of his thumb, watching as it slid over smooth skin several shades darker than his own, careful not to touch him directly, and Harry gasped softly as he edged the material all the way up to his chest so he could get a clear view of his flexing stomach. "You have a nice stomach."

Harry licked chapped lips, and he couldn't even laugh at the unexpected words, because his heart was skipping around inside his chest like it wanted to escape, and he didn't know why. "Thanks." A pale hand hovered over the skin just below his navel, not touching, but then the air began to warm between them at the proximity, and he felt a fluttering in his lower stomach as he resisted arching up towards the tall wizard's hand to meet it. "You can touch me."

Piercing grey eyes flicked up at that, making Harry's breath catch. "Do you want me to touch you?"

Harry nodded faintly, something protesting fiercely in his mind at the question, but he didn't care at that moment, because it had been infuriatingly useless all day despite his efforts, and he wasn't in the mood to deal with it now.

He grabbed onto silky sheets on either side of him, to keep his own hands from reaching out. "Yeah," he said roughly.

Lips tugged up at that, but the hand didn't lower. "Ask me."

Green eyes widened, and the wizard struggled to think.

" _Ask me to touch you_." The words just as quiet.

Harry closed his eyes, the air surrounding him feeling like it was alive with electricity, his lower body hot and humming with need like he wouldn't have thought possible, the words fighting him. "Please, I. I want you to touch me," was managed.

Then cool knuckles grazed teasingly across the sensitive skin just above his pants line, and he shuddered, a thrill running down further and into a certain body part, filling it, and he gasped in a sharp breath.

"Shhh," was whispered, Tom leaning down so his lips were almost grazing his ear, "Try not to make a sound," and Harry found himself nodding even as he cursed mentally, his lungs filling immediately in protest. Fingertips slipped just under the waist of his pants, stroking the soft skin beneath, and Harry bit down on his lower lip hard as his body began to heat up further, his exhales jerking silently from his unsteady chest.

"Good, good Harry," was said silkily and then, "just _relax_ a little."

Harry forced the muscles of his shoulders and neck to unclench, and his breaths slowed a little in the process, the tension in his lower stomach refusing to soften completely. Fingers brushed over the stubborn area, causing it to quiver, and his hips rolled up the slightest bit in response, brushing his lower body against Tom's before he could stop it. Teeth bit down on the side of his neck, and he arched up again. " _Shit_." Teeth clenched harder, and Harry held back another expletive, not moving, his breathing jagged. Teeth slowly softened their hold and then removed themselves. Then fingers were edging his pants down over his hips, like nothing had happened, and resting them around his thighs.

"Very nice," was hummed. Tom studied the exposed wizard intently.

Harry opened his eyes, his lips, mouth and throat too dry as he breathed heavily, watching the tall wizard slipping his own pants down, his white button shirt hitched up, to reveal perfectly sculpted pale skin and then his impressive body part that made his own jump.

"Don't move, Harry," was said quietly, and he let out a silent breath, willing his body to calm down. Fingers cupped him, bringing him up, and pale hips shifted down - pressing their body parts together firmly. "Ah," the tall wizard gasped, and Harry fought to keep his own gasp silent, barely succeeding, and then long talented fingers were sliding around them both, Tom stroking them together. "Is that good?"

Harry nodded jerkily, holding his lips firmly between his teeth, forcing his hips to relax even as the wizard above him began to roll his own with each downard stroke.

Tom's breaths began to come in shortened strides as he watched his and Harry's bodies slide together, something about it feeling wrong, dangerous, and pleasure surged through his entire body, his blood picking up momentum with each stubborn thrust.

He bit back a grunt, as he felt a tightening down low, and he pressed himself down more _firmly_ against the blissfully silent wizard, his hand speeding up. " _Are you close_?"

Harry nodded again, green eyes hazed with some emotion that caused an intense tightening begin to rise inside Tom, and the tall wizard leaned down again, midnight locks falling onto high cheekbones.

"Then _come_ for me, Harry," he hissed between red lips, the words coming out in parseltongue in his distraction; Harry hummed a low groan, and then hot liquid began to hit Tom's stomach in spurts, and some ran over his sensitive tip, heating it, and then his own hips jerked forward, and he joined the wizard, rocking slowly and watching as he covered Harry's all-white artwork completely with his own until he couldn't tell if it had ever been there.

Heavy breaths filled the silence. Tom pulled out his wand from his sleeve and cleaned himself and then looked down to Harry, who nodded in response.

He smiled slowly, pointed his wand at him, and then cleaned him too before saying, "You can talk now."

Harry cleared his throat and scrubbed at his hair, looking confused. Tom pulled up his slacks, and Harry did the same, lifting his hips to manage it. He eyed the wild-haired wizard beneath him curiously. Then he leaned down onto his hands once more and met hesitant green eyes up close. "What is it?"

"I don't know," Harry said, his voice rough, looking unsure as he met the wizard's quiet grey gaze. "Was that - was that normal?"

Tom found himself almost smiling, and he leaned down closer to the wizard's lips, hovering just over them. He let out a soft breath of air, and the wizard shivered under him. "Probably not."


	13. Chapter 13

_The Next Day..._

A secured door creaked as it struggled to sway with the rest of its surroundings, but not succeeding (as the charm holding it made it stand in place), making it appear as if it were almost floating, and not actually attached to the rest of the shifting building as it was.

A full moon hung just outside, its pale, yellow light sneaking in between a loosened board and the chipped white frame it was nailed to, not finding a victim within to inflict its anger.

"What do you mean, they're 'getting along'?" was asked incredulously.

"Were you expecting otherwise...?"

A tall, lean form began to pace along pale dirt-covered floorboards that looked better suited for a landfill, stopping when black polished shoes reached a dilapidated grand piano and then turned only to be impeded by a a king-sized four poster a few agitated strides later. The figure spun around. "This is too risky, we should pull him."

The wizard standing by the sealed door sighed quietly before adjusting rectangular glasses. "That would prove rather difficult, because I do not have the time turner yet."

"What-"

"No need to worry, I'm sure Mr. Potter can handle himself just fine, he's an extraordinarily strong wizard, and this Tom Riddle does not seem to harbor any ill will towards him yet."

"Yet? What about when he does? He doesn't have any of his memories, he's no protection!"

"Mr..." There was a pause. "I assure you, everything is going to plan so far. Mr. Potter's complete memory loss, while... regrettable... should not affect the outcome of the mission. Perhaps it will even aid in it. Allow fate to take its natural course."

The figure scoffed. "I'm not going to sit around and wait for 'fate' to take care of things. Not again. I'm not willing to risk Harry's life for this, it was _never_ the plan."

"I understand you're _invested_ ," was said carefully, "in Mr. Potter's welfare, as am I in my own way, it would seem. However, there is nothing to be done right now, not until I can gain his trust. It will happen, trust me, history has a way of repeating itself... even if it isn't aware what it is yet."

"That's not exactly comforting."

The wizard smiled faintly. "No, I don't suppose it would be. However so long as the prophesy still holds, we are unable to help in any other substantial way. We must have faith in Mr. Potter, we can not intervene."

Two sets of eyes, one blue and clear as the sky, the other an opaque grey, like smoothed river-stones, looked to the clouded glass orb set atop a stand in the center of the room.

"If anything does change though, we remove him," was said with an authority that over any other subject wouldn't be there.

The room's other occupant nodded solemnly. "But of course."

* * *

"What do you think about her, Harry? Pretty fit, yeah?"

"You think everyone is fit, Avery."

Tom took a bite of something from his plate as Avery and Harry sat across from him early on Thursday, laughing together in a conspiratorial fashion, the Great Hall a low rumble of voices, breakfast more than halfway through.

It'd been not quite a week since the messy-haired wizard had appeared inside their dorm, and the two wizards had really started to hit it off. They'd spent the day before together for the most part, Avery taking him flying after classes with only a little bit of convincing needed on Harry's end that he was up for it and that the fresh air made him feel even better, and they'd begun to talk a good amount in between classes and in the evenings after them.

He took another bite. It was not unexpected.

"I'll take that as a no. What about him? Orion Bla-Oh fuck me, the bloody bastard's coming over."

Tom sniffed, lifting the fork to his mouth, ignoring the presence suddenly closing in on his right.

"Hello Avery," was said in a silky smooth voice as feet stopped. "Harry Potter..." was added slowly, and then silkily with an undeniable grin, "and _Tom_ , my how you grew over summer."

Grey eyes shifted slowly upwards, and the tall wizard met the gaze that would match his if it were a few shades darker. "Orion," he said with a slight lift of his chin, earning him a crooked grin from the hovering seventh year, and he blocked out Avery's sudden coughing fit. "What can I do for you?"

"Ah yes... You see,"—the aristocratic-looking wizard shifted closer until his side was just shy of brushing Tom's shoulder—"I've been having some trouble in Potions, and I hear you're the best."

Tom nodded, once, eyeing the small space between them narrowly. "I am."

Orion grinned more widely at that. "Excellent. Would you be willing to help me tomorrow night?"

Tom blinked. "Of course."

* * *

Harry walked quietly with his hands stuffed in his pockets after breakfast, black hair in its usual unruly state, his brown leather carrying bag slung across his chest, making his green tie hang askew. He felt off, had, ever since Tuesday night... Avery was beside him, a silent Tom on the blond's other side, the three wizards making their way to DADA class.

Harry smiled politely at two red-headed witches with crimson and gold ties who appeared around his age when they called his name in unison and waved at him excitedly.

He looked down as he passed, their giggling reaching his ears but his thoughts elsewhere. He and Tom hadn't discussed what had happened between them the day before. The tall wizard had stood up, tucked in his shirt and then walked off without another word. He'd settled on his own bed, curtains open, with Nagini curling up in his lap immediately, the familiar unusually mute. He'd then read for another hour without looking up or addressing Harry again, and now they weren't speaking it would seem.

Well, Tom wasn't speaking, to anyone really for that matter— _except to the wizard named Orion Black_ , he amended in his ruffled mind. Oddly, Avery didn't seem to notice the wizard's silence, that, or he was used to it. Tom was definitely different; a vivid memory tried to push to the forefront of his thoughts, one with heated skin and one-sided touching, piercing grey eyes—

"Weasleys," was whispered in Harry's ear, and the distracted wizard's head jerked up.

"What?"

Avery cocked a crooked grin, and he motioned over his shoulder with an incline of his chin back towards the two Gryffindor witches. "They're Weasleys. Can't remember their first names, they're a year below us."

"Ah," Harry said, frowning and looking back too a second, the name sounding, feeling, _very_ familiar. He opened his mouth to speak when a hand grasped his arm, stopping him without warning. The wizard found himself standing beside Avery and Tom, three seventh year Slytherins just off to the side by the stairs with their wands out, wizards and witches passing between them quickly, seeming in a hurry to move out of the way.

"Well, well, _look_ what we have _here_ ," was drawled lazily by the wizard in the center. A platinum-haired Slytherin, who was flanked by a sneering brunet and an apparently indifferent dark-skinned wizard, pushed off the wall to stroll towards Harry and his two dorm-mates, his two friends staying behind but watching closely. "So, you must be _Harry Potter._ "

Harry felt his chest puff up, and something about the wizard had him immediately on edge. "Yeah. What's it to you?"

The two older Slytherins behind the blond laughed at that, but stopped when the offended wizard shot them both a sharp look. He turned back to Harry, and gave him a tight, closed-mouth smile, eyes narrowing the slightest bit. "I am merely welcoming you to Hogwarts." He tapped the badge on his chest. "Head Boy."

Harry eyed it for a second, the unpleasant emotion in his chest only rising. He didn't like the wizard. He knew that much. He nodded tightly in response.

"Malfoy. Abraxas Malfoy," the wizard said, and he offered another smile, it turning saccharin as he continued to speak, "I have distant family at Durmstrang." Harry said nothing. "I hear you play quidditch? Seeker, if I'm not mistaken?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Yeah, I did..."

The wizard arched platinum brows. "Well, we actually just lost our star seeker last year, you should try out next week. Upper classes get picked first and no one in seventh is trying out for it."

Harry resisted glancing over to Avery and Tom. He nodded slightly. "Maybe. I'll think about it."

"I hope you do." The wizard took a step back, and his two friends moved forward to stand on either side. "I think you'll do well in Slytherin, Harry Potter. You just need to make sure you make the right connections."

Harry clenched his jaw as he watched the three wizards turn as one and walk off, something toeing the line between his subconscious and conscious, teetering precariously.

"All right, Harry?" Avery's voice cut through the wizard's thoughts, snapping him back.

Harry gave his head a shake, and he found Avery waiting patiently, and Tom eyeing him, with a closed-off expression, for the first time since their private interaction. "Yeah," he said quickly and started walking again, the two wizards following suit. He frowned and glanced over to his two dorm-mates. "Malfoy, he's a bit of an arse, isn't he?"

Avery laughed at that, Tom not reacting to the question at all, the wizard's gaze trained straight forward once more. The blond's hand settled on Harry's shoulder. "Yeah, he really is," was said in amusement. "But you should consider trying out, you'd be great."

Harry gave a shrug as they reached the door to their class. "I'll think about it," he hedged and stepped through the doorway behind a silent Tom.

* * *

"Bloody hell! You're actually going on a date with Ori-"

"Avery shut up," Tom said, cutting his friend off swiftly as he walked with just the blond for only the second time since Harry had arrived, and the first time since he'd agreed to meet up with the older Slytherin. The Ravenclaw witch, Chang, had stopped by their table after dinner and had asked Harry to the library, saying she could help him catch up with his classes if he'd like. The wizard had taken her up on the offer. Tom's lips pressed together in a tight line, and he kept his thoughts clear.

Avery let out a barking laugh, and his arm swung up and wrapped around Tom's shoulders as his step grew more springy. "Oh come on, don't be like that," he said easily as they continued down the barely lit hallway to their common room, and then somewhat more carefully, "I mean... even Harry looked surprised, and he doesn't even know—"

"I said _drop it_ ," Tom snapped, some emotion suddenly crawling inside his chest and darkening his thoughts. He hissed at the wall, and he felt Nagini shift restlessly inside his bag, nudging his side as the entrance to the Slytherin common room opened. "You can go eat when we get to the dorm," he hissed more quietly, forcing tensed muscles to relax, and his familiar calmed down as he began to make his way through the common room with Avery still by his side, albeit quiet.

"Oh Tom, _there_ you are."

He stopped, squarely, and his wand dropped immediately into his hand with a silent summoning charm now perfected after the last time, and he turned with his arm up and wand ready. "What do you want now, Malfoy?" he asked sharply, in no mood for the sneering Head Boy a second time that day, Avery by his side suddenly alert.

The platinum blond's eyes widened only minutely before relaxing, and lips curled up lazily on one side, the wizard's own wand out but not yet pointed. "So jumpy," the head boy drawled, "I was only going to ask about your new dormmate."

Tom flexed his jaw. "What about him?"

The wizard's gaze flicked down at the pointed wand as he said slowly, in a more careful tone, "Where _is_ he exactly, right now?"

"Not here," Tom replied, clipped, and fingers tightened around the wand they held, magic beginning to tingle at their tips. "Why do you care?"

"My my," the Malfoy heir said, and he lifted both hands, palms out, in an appeasing gesture, his wand pointed benignly at the ceiling as he held it pressed against his right hand with just his thumb, "A little touchy over him, are we?"

"Don't even think about it," Tom said, his wand point shifting to aim at the dead center of the wizard's chest only a little over a yard's distance away. "Do you take me for a _fool_? Lower your hands. Now."

The wizard smiled coolly at that, his hands lowering back down slowly. "I can see you're not in the mood to talk, perhaps another time. You're lucky I don't believe in deducting points from my own House."

"Yes," Tom sneered, "Wouldn't want to lose the House Cup this year, would we?"

"Tom..."

The wizard took a quick step back at his friend's warning tone and swung to face the sound of more feet, to find Vincent Goyle traipsing into the room, Anthony Zabini by his side. The two seventh-years went to reach for their wands when Orion Black stepped through behind them.

"Ah. Look at this. So many Slytherins in one spot. Never a good sign," the wizard said with a laugh. "Come on boys, let's leave Abraxas with his playmates, I'm sure Head Boy doesn't need _our_ help with a couple sixth years."

Tom glared as the three seventh-years passed by, leaving their dorm-mate behind. Orion winked at him discreetly, and dark grey eyes narrowed to slits.


	14. Chapter 14

Harry stood Friday morning, hot water pouring down over him, his usually wild hair plastered to his head and steam rose up around him in a hot cloud. He breathed in deeply, holding green eyes closed as he tried to ignore the sound of the shower running in the stall beside him.

"I'm going to run down and eat, I'll bring you two something back," was shouted over the two sets of spraying water.

Harry listened for Tom to answer and when he said nothing he spoke up, his voice sounding a little rough. "Yeah, okay, thanks Avery."

"No problem, Mate." The door to the bathroom shut.

Harry glanced over to the stone wall on his right, he thought he'd heard something. He took a step closer, dark brows furrowing, and then he picked up on the sound of shortened breaths. He felt his own breath catch, his eyes widening as realization of what he was hearing filled him.

The wizard blinked a few times and took a quick step back, catching himself. What was he doing listening in? He tried to clear the thought, but then he heard a low groan, and the sound of wet skin sliding over equally wet skin made it impossible. Shit.

He took another step back, and then another until he was leaning against cold stones, only the ends of his feet being pelted by the water, the skin red over the bridges and his toes from its heat. He took a slow breath in, and his tongue darted out to clear the drops of water rolling down his face and onto parted lips, his own breaths tight. Tom knew he was in there, didn't he?

"Are you all right, Harry?" was asked in a smooth voice.

Harry startled in response before gathering himself, and he spoke up, his voice rough, "Yeah... I'm fine."

The wizard let out a short low noise that sounded like a held back groan. "Why aren't you showering?"

"Ah..." Harry pushed off the wall and moved forward again until his left shoulder and his entire side was once again being pelted, and he stared at the wall separating them. "I am..."

"The Ravenclaw witch seems interested in you," was said.

Harry swallowed, his throat dry. The witch had insisted on going to the library with him the night before when she'd found out he was headed there after dinner. She hadn't spoken much past asking to go with him, and he couldn't help but think she'd been waiting for him to take the initiative. He hadn't. "Yeah," he said simply.

There was a breathy-sounding laugh, but then the voice that followed was smooth once more. "Is the feeling mutual?"

Harry shook his head slowly, he could hear the sound of sliding skin speeding up, and his own body was responding eagerly. He ignored it. "No," he heard himself say, "no it's not."

"Ah," the wizard said, and it was short and even-sounding, but somehow it had Harry's body suddenly on fire. He resisted touching himself.

"So, you and Orion?" he asked hesitantly.

There was a pause. "No. Not at all."

Harry turned then to face the shower, and he closed his eyes, some feeling rushing in his chest. He didn't know what they were doing. He didn't know what he wanted them-

"Harry..." was whispered against his shoulder, and Harry felt his heart stop. He held himself perfectly still as a body moved up behind him, Tom's front soon close enough to his back that the wizard could feel the residual heat rolling off his stomach, and lips hovered over the junction of his neck and shoulder. "Can I touch you?"

Harry nodded, and then fingertips grazed across his right shoulder, and then they trailed slowly down the side of his arm and all the way to his forearm, then fingers were touching his wrist, wrapping around it.

"Do you want to touch me?" was asked, puffs of air tickling the skin on Harry's neck.

"Yeah," Harry said, a certain body member pulsing as the wizard refused to acknowledge it, fingers still encircling his wrist. Then his arm was lifted slowly, and his hand was placed on foreign skin to his surprise, his fingers reflexively grasping onto the back of Tom's neck, and he felt the wizard shift forward some so he didn't have to stretch so much to hold on, their bodies still not touching anywhere else.

"You can leave it there, just don't move it," was said in a quietly tight voice, and Harry nodded jerkily.

The hand dropped from his wrist and then it was a palm, no fingers, sliding over his slickened torso, from his ribs inward and _down_ to his stomach, inching further towards his navel. "I've been wanting to try something with you," was said, and the wizard's palm was pressing up fully against the bottom of Harry's excited body part, and then fingers were wrapping around carefully one-by-one.

Harry sucked in a breath, his hand tightening around the wizard's neck but not moving. "Yeah?" he asked as Tom's hand began to slide over him, and he held back a groan, his eyes falling shut. "What's that?" Tom's other hand began to stroke Harry's lower back gently where it dipped in just above his hips.

"I want to feel you."

Harry's breathing stuttered.

"From the _inside_ ," was hissed against the sensitive spot where his jaw, neck and ear met.

" _Fuck_."

Knuckles slid down further. "Yes or no?"

Harry hummed, some feeling inside him protesting vehemently. He shouldn't. What he and Tom had wasn't healthy. Tom wasn't healthy. Fingers started to slide back up. "Okay," he said in a rush to stop them from leaving. "Just. Just be careful." Harry felt upturned lips press to the nape of his neck.

"Of course, Harry," was said smoothly, and then wet fingers slid down and between and then one pressed, in.

" _Ah-h_ ," Harry breathed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as a finger began to slide inside him, the feeling like nothing his brain or body could categorize, hidden or not. He tried to slow his breathing as the finger slipped _all_ the way in and then began to move back out.

"You feel like velvet," was said silkily.

Harry's eyes tried to roll back in his head, the hand around his throbbing body member moving at a leisurely pace, and the fingers on his right hand twitched as they held themselves on the wizard's neck, still not straying from where they'd been placed. "Oh, Godric," he groaned.

An amused breath flitted across his ear. "Your Gryffindor is showing," was said quietly, and then another finger pushed in without warning, and Harry gasped, the sound indignant. "You were a Gryffindor though, weren't you?" was asked less nicely, and fingers spread wide without warning.

" _Fuck_ ," Harry cursed, and his jaw clenched as he resisted the urge to push the wizard away.

"Can't resist a fight, can you?" was asked sharply, and another finger pushed in.

Harry pressed lips between teeth tightly, his heart racing, and anger began to well inside of him.

"Come on, Harry, show it to me. Show me how your blood is glittering with gold and you fight without _ever_ backing down." Fingers began to pump harshly. " _Show it to me_. Show me you're not a _real_ Slytherin, that you don't belong here."

Harry closed his eyes, and he felt his hand fall from the wizard's neck. Then he was shoved up against the stone wall in front of him, fingers pumping inside of him and around him, and he could feel himself getting there. He cursed, searching for the anger that had just been there, but he didn't want to fight Tom anymore, he just wanted him. He felt a hot tongue slide up the side of his neck, and he gasped.

"Spread your legs more," was said.

Harry nodded, and his feet shifted out to the sides further, and he groaned as fingers began to pump more smoothly, and then they curled forward, and they began to _graze_ something inside of him that made his breath catch each time, the feeling better than he could have ever imagined.

"You look so good like this," was whispered against his ear. "Do you like it?"

Harry groaned, nodding jerkily, and the hand around his needy body part began to move again with more purpose. " _Tom_."

"Yes Harry?" was hissed.

"I'm going to _come_ ," he said, and then he did, groaning, the wizard behind him pressing up against his entire back and leaning over to watch.

* * *

Harry blinked as he stared up at the stone ceiling inside his curtained-off bed in the Slytherin dungeons late Friday night, his vision blurry without his glasses, that were resting on his nightstand. The dorm was empty except for him, Avery and Tom still out.

Emerald eyes unfocused, the wild-haired wizard ignoring a low buzzing behind his thoughts that he couldn't quite make out.

He and Tom had done things on two occasions. Well, Tom had done things to him, he'd basically been a bystander — with benefits, obviously — but still... He didn't know why he'd gone along with the wizard's requests both times. Maybe because they had felt like actual requests oddly enough despite how restrictive they'd been. He'd felt like the wizard had _needed_ him to do what all he'd asked in order for them to do... what they'd done.

Harry closed his eyes, a soft breath escaping his lips when his chest expanded. Tom was good-looking, incredibly good-looking, but that wasn't what had encouraged him to go along with the wizard's unexpected propositions either time. He'd felt drawn to the tall Slytherin, his quiet eyes, how they locked on him so intently whenever they spoke. He'd wanted to feel closer to him. He couldn't remember his past life, but he was almost positive he wouldn't have gotten off with someone he'd known for less than a week, someone with whom he wasn't even always on friendly terms.

He sighed and rubbed at tired but stubborn eyes. Or maybe he would. He had, after all.

Harry let out a frustrated groan. He didn't know much about the world he was in yet, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd done something very bad by being with the quiet wizard in that way. From their interactions and the way others reacted to him, Harry could assume Tom wasn't the type to do such things easily, if at all, and he didn't know if it was a positive sign or a negative one he'd elicited the behavior. He feared negative though, considering how the wizard was reacting to it.

He felt an uncomfortable tension begin to grow in his chest. He should've said no, he shouldn't have complied so easily to everything Tom had wanted. He felt a shiver run down his spine at just the thought towards the still fresh memories from a few day's time and then just hours before. The wizard's touch had felt hesitant both times, but not from nervousness, but more so an intensity almost. Like he hadn't trusted himself to touch someone else in such a manner. Harry couldn't seem to forget it either, when he was in the wizard's presence now he could almost feel his touches. A silent breath escaped parted lips. Tom's presence had affected him the most out of all the people he'd interacted with in the short time since he'd arrived, but it was starting to fluctuate between the ominous weight it once had been and a new pulling draw, and he was confused. He needed to talk to someone.

"You awake, Harry?" was whispered.

Harry looked over and pulled his curtains aside at the familiar voice, and he found an impish smile pointed down at him. He pushed himself up into a sitting position quickly, "Oh hey, Avery, just got back?" he asked quietly and cleared his throat, pushing down at his wild hair as he grabbed for his glasses, his mind scrambling to situate itself once more.

"Yeah, mind if I join you?"

Harry shook his head distractedly at the hushed words, pushing round frames up the bridge of his nose, and the blond climbed into his bed, curtains falling shut behind him. "What's up?" He heard a whispered silencing charm, and the three curtained-walls glimmered a soft rainbow of colors before fading back to a muted green that looked black in the dark.

Avery shrugged, as he wrapped his arms loosely around his legs, facing Harry, his wand still in his hand. He looked over to the wall where curtains were open to display the window that peered into the Black Lake. "Not tired yet. What are you doing still awake?"

Harry looked down at his hands as they rested over his green comforter, barely able to make them out. "Just thinking."

Avery hummed quietly. "Has Tom been in here yet?"

Harry's attention snapped to the wizard. "I'm sorry?"

Blue eyes turned to study Harry, and the blond smiled slowly. He nodded at the window. "This was his favorite view, he used to have a sofa transfigured in front of it before you showed up."

"Oh..." Harry cleared his throat, trying to hide the shocked expression that had taken over his features. He glanced over at the window to see a giant stone-like fish swimming by, its eyes glowing a fluorescent green. "No, he hasn't, uh, been by to look at it. That I know of."

Avery huffed a laugh. "I see." He looked up to meet Harry's gaze, and he cocked his head slightly. "Have you had anymore memories come back to you?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Not since I told you last."

Avery hummed his acknowledgment again and then sniffed, watching the window with interest. "I have to say, I'm surprised you didn't ask Tom to cancel his plans with Orion."

Green eyes widened, and then Harry shifted uncomfortably, not sure what all the blond knew and finding himself agitated at the reminder of where an absent Tom most likely was at that moment. _No. Not at all_. The wizard's words from that morning regarding the older Slytherin mocking him. He rubbed at the back of his neck roughly. "Ah, I'm not sure that's my place."

The blond nodded at that, seeming to think over it. "Perhaps not." He went quiet again, and then sighed after a few moments of silence. "Harry... Tom is my best friend, has been since first year," he said and then paused, Harry not responding. He continued more slowly, "He's been hurt a lot in his life. Too much."

Harry opened his mouth—

"What I'm saying is, don't give him another reason to close himself off. Give him a chance, a real chance. You seem like you can handle a lot," the wizard said, his expression questioning, and Harry found himself nodding slowly. Avery met his gaze then and said in almost a whisper as if he thought he might be overheard, "Don't let him scare you off then, he needs someone who won't run screaming as soon as he starts to open up to them, someone who won't make him feel like a monster."

Harry felt himself nodding and then, suddenly without warning, a memory flashed before his eyes.


	15. Chapter 15

Harry couldn't sleep.

He'd tried, but it was no use. Restless legs kicked down too warm of sheets, the wild-haired wizard groaning as he turned away from the window that reminded him of Tom now thanks to Avery's comment. Avery. The blond wizard had left more than an hour ago and was surely fast asleep. He'd acted so nonchalant about his two dorm-mates being—

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Harry mumbled to himself, stopping his thoughts before they could escalate any further, and then scrubbed at his face roughly. He'd had a memory, a _very_ disturbing one, and his frazzled mind just kept drifting towards a certain raven-haired wizard he barely knew.

He'd died. His memory, it all felt like a huge blur after the fact oddly, but he could remember that. And Dumbledore had been there, and he'd been giving him advice. But why? Why had he been there of all wizards helping him? And why had he died in the first place? And how had he come back? He might not be able to remember his personal past, but he did have a solid grasp on the basics and what was or wasn't possible. Dying and coming back was _not_ one of them.

His forehead throbbed above his right brow, and he grimaced, rubbing at it gently. If only he could recover his memory, all of it, not just snippets. Maybe he should show the transfiguration professor the time turner-like piece he'd shown up with... but... just the thought made his chest tighten and his thoughts rebel. He may have been close to the older wizard in a different life, but he knew nothing about him now, and for some reason... he didn't _feel_ like he should trust him implicitly.

That only left two other choices though. His roommates. Harry sat up, giving up on sleep, and scrubbed at mussed locks distractedly, a heavy breath escaping tight lungs. Could he trust them with the information? He had been sent to their dorm... maybe it was a sign. Maybe they were who he was supposed to trust. He surely hadn't had anyone else approach him to help, barring the wizard Dumbledore. And to be honest, he was inclined to trust them more, everything considered.

Harry sucked on his teeth, resisting the urge to bounce back to another less important train of thought—

The door opened.

Green eyes darted to closed curtains, and Harry listened to the sound of the door to the dorm shutting once more, quietly. He considered opening his drapes, growling when he couldn't decide, and then, it was done for him. Green orbs looked up into dark grey.

"You're up."

"Yeah, couldn't sleep," Harry said with a small shrug, looking back down, something buzzing in his mind again but louder.

"What's wrong?"

Harry shook his head, scrubbing at his hair. "It's nothing."

His response was met with silence, then the mattress dipped by the wizard's legs, Tom was climbing onto his bed. Curtains slid shut sharply.

Harry looked back up, black brows lifted as he watched the wizard begin to chew on his right thumbnail, the action striking him as incredibly off despite barely knowing the wizard. He said nothing, and Tom looked out the window finally, his arms wrapping around his knees, a distant expression flitting across his features for a split-second before clearing again.

"People are not inherently good."

Harry blinked, and then he frowned. "I'm sorry?"

Grey eyes turned on him, something wild behind them that made the organ inside the wizard's chest speed up like it was running, and he couldn't tell if it was fear or excitement chasing it. His fingers twitched, and Harry realized his wand was on his nightstand. "People are naturally selfish, egotistical, narcissistic," the tall wizard paused, eyes widening with a gleam, and he added, "and cruel. We're taught to deny all of those things as we grow up, but it doesn't always stick, does it?"

Harry swallowed hard, not sure where the words were coming from, and he studied the wizard more closely before responding. Grey eyes were wired, usually neat hair unkempt, and the wizard's shirt was unbuttoned the top few, his tie missing. Harry pushed away a sudden emotion that almost felt like anger but not quite, because he didn't know at whom it was even directed, or what to do with it. He shook his head slowly. "I don't think that's true."

Tom's expression slowly intensified. "No? And how do you know that?" he asked slowly, "Did all your memories return while I was out?"

Harry ground his teeth together, and he sat more upright. "No, but I don't need them to know that. I can feel it."

The tall wizard paused at that, and his head cocked to one side slightly. "And what's it feel like?"

Harry frowned.

"You say you can feel it. How?"

The wild-haired wizard struggled to answer. "I just mean... I don't know." He scrubbed at mussed locks in agitation; he was tired, and it was late. "I know there's good and bad in the world though, and I think we're all born with a clean slate, things happen—but ultimately, we choose—there's always a choice." He looked up when he received no response, and he found Tom eyeing him.

"You're naïve," the wizard said, and then, a smile began to curl up his lips slowly. "I like that."

Harry blinked a few times. "...You like that?" he asked hesitantly, and he shifted back some when the wizard's smile grew even more at his question, indignation growing in his chest.

Tom nodded, and then he pushed up onto his hands and knees and began to crawl towards him, Harry leaning back unthinkingly to get away until he fell the last couple inches to land on his pillow, and he glared up at the tall Slytherin. Tom's tongue darted out to wet lips as he studied the wizard's freshly exposed scar, his expression clouding as he noticed it looked angry, a bright red around the edges. "There's something off about you tonight..."

Black brows furrowed but then smoothed. Harry cleared his throat before saying, "I had a memory. When you were off with... with Black."

Grey eyes sharpened at that. "Did you?"

"Yeah." Harry cleared his throat again before offering, "I, uh, died in it."

Tom blinked.

"And I came back, I mean, I didn't remember that far, but I, well I was _told_ that was going to happen, and I'm here now so..."

" _Who_ told you that?" Tom probed quietly.

Harry stopped himself from shaking his head. "Professor Dumbledore. He was older though."

The wizard said nothing, sliding his tongue along the inside of his cheek, all the ramifications of the simple statement clicking in his mind. "Have you told him? Dumbledore, that is?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Just you. I—," he hesitated and then decided to just say what he was thinking, "I don't know if I want to tell him, honestly. I don't know if I can trust him."

Tom pressed his lips together to keep them from twitching, his blood suddenly thrumming in his veins. He nodded solemnly. "I understand." He eyed the wizard beneath him with a new concealed fascination. Coming back from the dead was no easy feat; he knew that for a _fact_. He met green eyes then, and he leaned down further when he felt the urge to be closer. "I could help you... remember again... if you'd like," he offered in a private tone.

"You could?" Harry blinked rapidly, his mind feeling like mush with the wizard so close, his breath brushing his chin. "How?"

Tom smiled. "I'm quite the Legilimens," he said smoothly, and then, carefully, "With your permission, if you let me in,"—The wizard looked into locked green eyes—"I'll uncover what's hidden, I can promise you that."


	16. Chapter 16

Harry thought for only a second before saying, "Can you just look at my most recent memory? Is that possible? I think I need more time, but there was something... strange about it, it felt different... maybe you could tell me?"

Tom considered the question before nodding slightly. "I could do that." He looked down at the wizard lying beneath him. "Do you want to sit up for it?" he asked in a careful tone.

Harry blinked a few times, remembering their position, and he began to push himself up. "Yeah, that's probably best," he said, Tom shifting back in response, and soon they were sitting facing each other in the dark. The wizard looked around the private space as he considered what they were about to do, feeling suddenly more uncomfortable than in their previous position. "Can I ask you something first?" he said, rubbing his shoulder as his discomfort continued to grow. When he received no immediate response he went ahead. "Did you," he paused when he felt a surge of anger, "Did you lie to me about Black?"

Harry looked up to find the wizard staring at him, his expression a cold mask. "I know we barely know each other, I'm not asking for anything. Well. I guess I am technically. I just don't want to be lied to, that's all."

The tall wizard lifted a hand and smoothed his hair into place, then he pressed lips together as he seemed to think. After a moment he spoke up. "I was not lying when I answered you in the shower."

Harry frowned at that. "So did something happen tonight then...?"

Grey eyes narrowed. "Don't ask questions to answers you don't want to know, Harry."

The messy-haired wizard balked at that. "What's that supposed to—" But before he could get out his question, the tall wizard was grasping the back of his neck as he pushed up onto his knees, his thumb inclining Harry's jaw so he was meeting his gaze.

"What I said before holds true. Black and I, there is nothing between us, nor will there ever be. That's all you need to know."

Harry swallowed, his throat dry, and the thumb beneath his jaw softened. He looked into grey eyes, the emotion behind them one he couldn't place, but it made something deep inside his chest ache. "Okay, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here."

Tom lifted his other hand and placed it in a careful manner on the wizard's neck too, and he leaned down until he was hovering in front of tempting lips, and he began to slide his right thumb along the wizard's neck, enjoying the sound of increasingly unsteady breathing as he stroked warm skin softly. He clenched his eyes shut when a particularly sharp inhale struck an unwanted chord in his mind, his grip growing unintentionally tight and when he heard an angry sounding gasp, his eyes flicked open and he glared down at the wizard beneath him. "What's wrong, doesn't that feel good?" he bit out.

Harry started to respond sharply when lips crashed to his. He growled angrily, opening his mouth despite himself to allow entrance, and fingers loosened their choking hold completely and began to gently trace over irritated skin. He felt a groan slip from him when a particularly sore spot was caressed, and then he was kissing the wizard back heatedly, his hand lifting to touch but then dropping back when he remembered.

"You can touch me some," was husked against his mouth, and then the wizard was kissing him again, their tongues meeting, and Harry placed his hand on the wizard's hip. Tom tensed, and Harry held it stationary as the taller wizard pulled back from their kiss. Grey eyes studied him for a second, but then the wizard leaned back in and began to kiss his neck.

Harry began to ghost his hand up, feeling the wizard's tone torso for the first time, and a sharp exhale felt hot on his throat, muscles coiling under his touch. He removed his hand and lowered it back down to his lap. "It's okay, I don't need to if it makes you uncomfortable."

Tom didn't respond immediately. "Thank you," he said, sounding off. Then he shifted back some and lightly pressed at the bottom of the wizard's jaw so that Harry looked up. "I can look at your memory now, but you have to focus on it."

Harry nodded slightly, his breathing still shallow. "Okay."

Tom licked his lips. "Can you trust me?"

The wizard swallowed hard. "I think so."

"Okay, then focus on your memory and let me in."

Harry nodded, and he felt himself slowly relax in Tom's presence for what he realized was the first time ever, the wizard's hands still resting on his neck, and he was surprised to see grey eyes fall shut. He took a moment to study up close the handsome wizard before him curiously, noting how nicely his ebony hair offset his porcelain skin, long eyelashes resting softly almost on high cheekbones when they were closed, and then his gaze trailed down to full lips, and he noticed them curled up in a smirk. " _Oh_."

Harry shook his head and closed his eyes quickly, and he shifted his thoughts to the annoyingly blurry memory from earlier. He heard a soft inhale and then exhale, and he tried to focus harder on it.

"Just relax."

Fingertips slid up into his hair, and Harry felt his mind soften, and then there were flashes of Tom and him. The wizard smiling at him, the wizard talking to him when he was upset, and then the wizard touching him, Harry gasping as he did, pleasure shooting through him with each caress or brush and craving more, his body heating everywhere he made contact with—

His vivid memories jerked to a stop, and he was suddenly looking into wide grey eyes, his breaths heavy like he'd been reenacting the memories. "Sorry. I got distracted," he tried to joke.

Tom sat silent for a few beats. "That's how it feels, when I touch you?"

Harry nodded hesitantly, a flush running up the back of his neck. "Yeah. How's it feel when I do?"

Tom's tongue snuck out to wet dry lips. "Do you want to see?"

Dark brows shot up, and the wizard nodded again, the movement more subtle. "If you'll show me."

The tall wizard moved closer once more, he met the wizard's gaze with a level one. "Only that, absolutely nothing else," he said in a warning tone.

Harry cleared his throat. "Okay, I promise," he said, hoping he could actually control his wanderings.

"Look into my eyes, it'll make it easier," the wizard said.

Harry nodded, letting out a measured breath and then he looked into dark grey, and he felt like he was moving closer, and then he was sinking into them, getting pulled under further and further, like he couldn't breathe, something was wrong. But then he realized there was a hand on his neck, and one in his hair, and he wanted to scream. He looked down to see himself, and he realized it was the wizard's memory from their first kiss. A hand grasped his hand, and his jaw clenched, all his muscles firing angrily to attack and hurt.

Then it skipped and they were kissing, and he felt heat and want and desire but then a hand was on his neck again, and all of the good feelings were washed away. He was in the shower suddenly, a body in front of him, and he was lifting a hand to rest on his neck, flexing his shoulders in preparation for the touch. He could do it. A hand grasped on, and he ground his teeth together and moved closer so it wasn't as much pressure. He let out a few breaths, working to relax and then he was touching, careful so that his palm brushed flat everywhere it went so it didn't feel wrong, and he began to visually take in the wizard before him, want slowly pooling in his lower body, growing to an unbearable level, and he wondered if he could have him without losing his temper completely, because he wanted him so—

Harry pulled back, blinking rapidly. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the disorienting memories. He felt the bed shift, and Tom was putting space between them. "Don't go," he said in a rush when the wizard started to turn away.

Tom looked to Harry. "I tried. With Orion. I didn't lie to you though."

Harry blinked a few times. He felt something pinch inside his chest. "Wha—"

"It didn't go well." Tom looked out the window, his gaze growing unsettled. "There are things about me... things—" The wizard paused and studied the dark, murky waters. "I'm not like other people."

Harry didn't say anything for a long moment. "I figured as much," he said, trying for joking but failing terribly. He looked down at his hands.

"Goodnight, Harry," the wizard said as he pushed himself up off Harry's bed.

* * *

Harry stared down at cold, grey stones as he walked into the dorm the next morning after breakfast behind Avery, Tom behind him, the tall Slytherin's presence keenly felt. The wild-haired wizard veered to the right after crossing through the doorway, scrubbing a hand through his hair and making his way over to his four-poster, blocking out his two dorm-mates as they talked over their plans for the weekend.

He shrugged off his carrying bag, dropping it onto the Slytherin green duvet before him and then made his way to the trunk that wasn't his, his jaw setting in determination as he crouched down, shoving open its lid. He'd not decided on whether he wanted to let Tom dig through his mind, the offer from just the night before weighing heavily on his thoughts. He'd barely slept an hour before it was time for breakfast, and exhaustion was slowly but surely taking its toll.

Harry rubbed at the heavily bruised-looking skin beneath his eyes with his thumb and index, pushing dark frames up until they were hiding in pitch-dark bangs. Would it help to know everything he'd forgotten? All of his regained memories so far had been terrible, and what would the quiet Slytherin think if, or rather, when he saw them? What if he had even worse ones and those were just the lighter-hearted ones? A desperate sound escaped the wizard's lips under the guise of a laugh. Maybe it'd be better if he just never—

"All right, Harry? Your head's not hurting again, is it?"

Harry didn't look up, but his hand dropped from his face at the sound of concern in Avery's voice. "No, just tired," he said, beginning to dig down through the mess of items in the large piece of luggage until fingers came into contact with a round, cold piece of metal near its bottom. The wizard's fingers slowly wrapped around the item on which he'd seriously considering casting an 'incendio' an embarrassing number of times through the night, and he stood up even as uncertainty itched at his chest.

"I've something I want to share with you two," he said, shooting a wary glance around the private room unnecessarily before allowing his gaze to settle on a surprised Avery. He slowly turned green eyes to meet piercing grey orbs, and he swallowed hard before saying: "It's how I got here, I think."

Tom said nothing, his gaze cutting down to study the wizard's closed hand. He felt a jolt of excitement begin to buzz through his veins.

"What is it?" Avery prodded.

Harry's expression pinched into a look of uncertainty, and he opened his hand to reveal what he was holding, his gaze along with both those of his dorm-mates locking on to it. "I'm not sure, but I think—"

"It's a modified time-turner," was said succinctly.

Harry's gaze jerked up, and his hand closed reflexively around the item as Tom began to approach him.

The tall wizard stopped just in front of him. "May I take a look at it?" he asked quietly, and he flexed the fingers on his right hand imperceptibly when they began to tingle.

"Ah..." Harry blinked a few times, and then when he heard Avery moving closer to get a better look too he gave himself a mental head shake and nodded tightly. Lifting his hand once more, he offered up the piece. "Yeah, sure."

Tom reached out, carefully taking the time turner, Avery peering over his shoulder, and he began to study it closely from every angle. It looked identical to what he'd seen in books, but it had an extra ring around its center that wouldn't pivot manually and was inscribed with symbols he didn't recognize. He focused on the obscure markings, letting his magic surge up into his fingertips.

"Does it still work?" Avery asked Harry, his voice suddenly hushed.

Harry gave a small shrug. "I'm not exactly sure, I haven't checked." He watched as the tall wizard turned the gold piece over, slender fingers carefully trailing around one of the smooth inner rings of the turner, grey eyes poring over it meticulously, the wizard's lips moving faintly but not making words, and he felt a rush of heat run up the back of his neck just under his collar. "So," Harry said, clearing his throat when he sounded off, "What do you think?"

Grey eyes slowly turned up, shifting their intense focus to lock onto Harry, who resisted clearing his throat again. Tom held out the item that was intricately embedded with his own magical signature, the work considerably beyond his current capabilities. He clenched his jaw as he drew in a silent breath before saying: "It appears intact. It's cursed."


	17. Chapter 17

"Did it work?"

There was a weighted pause between two figures in a back storage room at Hog's Head, the shut and magically-sealed room only ten by ten feet at most.

The taller and much more ostentatiously dressed of the two leaned over to eye pickled flobberworm slices on a nearby shelf with an openly curious expression, earning him a cringing look of distaste from his companion before allowing, "It worked... but if it helped, is yet to be seen."

The second figure huffed impatiently and then side-stepped away from a descending shiny black spider, its round body the size of a snitch. It lowered itself to eye-level by a single, thick webbing to hang between the two wizards in the dusty room, not appearing to have any other plans. The younger occupant cleared his throat. "I'm becoming concerned that this plan was not the best. You're telling me that Harry is not confiding in you and instead spending more and more time with"—there was a painful pause—"Riddle. You don't know Harry the way I do. This will _only_ lead to problems."

"I understand your concerns, and you are correct I have not had the opportunity to interact with Mr. Potter a significant amount, as of yet. However, the memories you were so gracious to share with me upon your arrival leave me with only the _utmost_ confidence in Mr. Potter, and unfortunately, no one else regarding this matter. I must press the importance of patience on such a delicate matter. Their fate still has not changed. You see that as well as I do. He has only been here just past two weeks-"

"Two weeks too long!" was shouted angrily, surprising both wizards almost equally. "I. I apologize, Pr—"

"No. Think nothing of it, I understand."

"I thought this was the answer," was said more politely, if still obviously strained. "I travelled back twice I was so sure, and the second time was at _great_ personal risk as you know. We didn't even know if it would work, but it did, and I just assumed everything would be over before it really started,"—there was a heavy pause—"Every day Harry has to be with _him_ , and without his memories... Could you help him possibly, regain them?" The hesitance behind the words not missed.

Blue eyes remained calm. "What are your specific concerns with Mr. Potter if he takes longer to regain his mind?"

The younger wizard shifted in place, the movement seeming uncharacteristic to the other occupant who had little knowledge of him. "I don't know exactly, I just know Harry, and it won't be to anyone's benefit leaving him like that." The words hung heavily in the space that smelled of a not-so-pleasant mixture of mead, exotic spiced meats, and dust. "If you'd let me see him, maybe—"

"I can't allow that, you wouldn't want to endanger Mr. Potter would you? Plus, you yourself said he wouldn't be happy to see you at this point. That he'd probably try to hex you, I believe I was told."

The other wizard cleared his throat. "Fine. I'll wait. But if things don't start to improve, or if they worsen"—the voice grew more determined—"I will use the escape plan for him if necessary, and I won't be talked out of it."

"But then how will you return?"

"...It's not important."

* * *

Pale fingers skated over the Slytherin green tie beneath them, smoothing silky material flat against a perfectly pressed white shirt. The arched library window nearby let in a chilled breeze, the sun gone and sky a deepening violet. A crow _cawed_ and there was a soft fluttering just outside.

A breath was drawn in slowly, and a foot tensed and then relaxed instead of tapping the cold stone floor beneath.

"All right, Tom?"

The dark-haired wizard gave a faint nod, not looking up from the text grey eyes had been scanning for the past two hours, late on Friday.

"Where's Harry, I thought he'd be coming?"

A jaw clenched. Nostrils flared.

"Did you...—"

"He's with the Ravenclaw witch," Tom said, clipped, his lower stomach pulling tight, and the tall wizard flipped the 878th page of the text and leaned over the book more, sliding his hand down absentmindedly to acknowledge a hissed request.

He allowed Nagini to slip under the starched cuff of his sleeve, the snake wrapping around his forearm once she'd reached the crook of his elbow and then crossing back as she secured her body in cords around his right arm until her chin was resting on the top of his wrist, her head and foreword set eyes the only part visible. He let out a silent breath through his nostrils and began to read again.

"Tom, listen, you've been quiet all week"—the wizard hesitated but pushed on regrettably—"And I don't mind at all, you know that, but Harry, well, he doesn't know you as well. So maybe..."

Grey eyes turned up deliberately. Tom blinked once, his jaw flexing a few times in quick progression as he eyed his silent dorm-mate seated across from him. "Yes... Avery?" he asked, his wand, secured to his left arm, suddenly noticeably cool against it. He raised pitch-dark brows slowly.

The blond wizard averted his gaze, looking out on the empty corner of the library, where the two wizards had been since classes had ended that day. Avery fidgeted in his seat and then shook his head, leaning back. "Nevermind. It's time for dinner, I'm going to go."

Tom dipped his chin curtly, and he returned his attention to the dust-encrusted book before him on mind ailments, the chapter regarding memory recall his current focus. He ignored the wizard as he gathered his things off the table in a sluggish manner. His lips twitched.

"Are you coming?"

Tom lifted his right hand, Nagini raising her chin as he did and flicking out her forked tongue in the familiar wizard's direction curiously, and he waved him off. There was a sigh and then departing footsteps, and the tall wizard lowered his arm to hang by his side, his familiar constricting around his arm to secure herself as she hung upside down.

"Where' _ss_ Harry?"

Grey eyes narrowed slowly.

"Can I go to him?"

" _No_."

Tom felt the snake tighten its hold further, and then her head coiled up into his sleeve to conceal her fully. He glanced around the space coolly as he drew his wand, mounted flickering sconces brightening as the nearby window seemingly darkened in response. He cast a silent repelling charm on the table and the few feet of area directly around him before sliding it back in his sleeve. Then he closed the heavy book to reveal a small, black journal beneath.

He leaned over the leather bound text, flipping through seemingly empty pages until he reached the middle of it, a center seam of black thread laced through the thick parchment fully visible. He hissed three words: "Accipite, et augendae." Then he focused on the blurry memory he'd been offered by the new wizard almost seven nights before. He felt the thought being tugged at tentatively, stretched, and then it was splitting into two, and it happened over and over to each copy until they began to pile on top of each other, and the memory slowly became more defined. Tom focused as he touched his index to the top left corner of the open book, a flare of heat singed the parchment beneath and then black ink in perfect script filled the page.

The wizard lifted his finger carefully and then placed his entire palm over the page of words and closed his eyes.

* * *

"Where am I?" a familiar voice called out.

Tom was standing at what looked to be King's Cross behind a confused Harry, the area abandoned and the wizard dressed in red and gold, appearing... older.

Tom's expression narrowed, and he looked around quickly, ignoring the play out of the memory he'd already seen, taking in his point of perspective and immediately he found his transfiguration professor—older too, and quite dead—approaching the dark-haired wizard as expected. He looked down at where he was standing, noticing the flooring wasn't fully formed, some spots only black, and there appeared to be blurred edges to its lines.

His sharp gaze narrowed further as he crouched down to study it more closely, noticing for the first time there was the slightest swaying to the memory's scenery making it appear not stable. He focused on the only other memories he'd seen of Harry's, which had involved them, and then he returned his attention to the 'supposed' one he was currently revisiting.

Lips pulled tight.

The tall wizard stood up abruptly, his nostrils flaring and chin lifting as he caught a glimpse of Dumbledore once again placing a comforting hand on the dark-haired wizard's shoulder and then swiped his hand sharply through the air, cutting through the memory like it was smoke. 

* * *

Tom's eyes re-opened, and he was in the library once more. He closed the journal before him, his shoulders tense and mind flicking through what he'd possibly discovered. He'd need to make sure though. Then he shifted his thoughts to another pressing matter. He'd found his magic all over the object that had brought the wizard to his time, and as far as he could tell from his research, it was a very advanced summoning charm, 'summoning' and 'charm' both to be used lightly. As it was clearly intended to force an unwilling victim through time with all of its external magic dampening, weakening, and anti-protective spells weaved into it.

The question was _why_ did he want the wizard? For what purpose? And was he the only one who wanted him there. Images of his and Harry's interactions flipped through his mind, the casual and... less casual. Then the odd scar on the wizard's forehead flashed to the forefront.

The tall wizard slipped his books, including the library text, into the leather bag by his leg, and he lifted it as he stood, settling its strap on his opposite shoulder. "I've changed my mind, Nagini," he hissed, and a small triangular head peeked out of his sleeve to peer up at him. "I'll take you to Harry."

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, I apologize. Also, Tom is going to feel a little off for the next few chapters or so as he goes through some things, but I promise his character will bounce back.

"No, that's not due until next Monday, we've only to finish our papers on identifying someone with lycanthropy for this Monday. Six inches, right Huiliang?"

"Yes, Harry and I finished those yesterday," was said in a soft lilt.

Harry sat quietly on a stone bench outside situated in front of a large open window just a few feet away from a statue of Rowena Ravenclaw. There was a standing torch on either end to light the area and Huiliang was by his side, her two close friends who were also Ravenclaws, Emma and Ellie, beside her, looking much like they had the past few days after classes.

The quiet wizard chewed on the inside of his cheek as he turned the page to his DADA text, the mention of lycanthropy causing something to itch in his chest uncomfortably.

He scratched at a spot to the left of his loosened tie and resisted trying to mentally dig further. He found the less he tried to jog his memory the more things were starting to cause a response, and he was content to leave it at that at the moment. Tom's offer moved to the forefront of his thoughts, but he pushed it away firmly, along with the sudden tightness in his lungs at the reminder of his dark-haired dormmate.

"Thanks for studying with me again, Harry," the witch beside him said quietly, placing her hand on the wizard's and giving it a squeeze.

Harry looked up from his book, black brows lifted, and a flush crawled up the back of his neck at the light touch. He rubbed at heated skin, not pulling away from the soft-spoken witch. "Oh uh, yeah, of course." He turned his attention back down to the book open on his lap.

"How are you liking Hogwarts? Is it much different from Durmstrang?" Emma asked. The blond witch sitting directly beside Huiliang, and who had been introduced as her best friend, was leaned forward studying Harry with a friendly look. She and Ellie had been uncomfortably quiet the first day but were slowly warming to the Slytherin.

Harry pinched one side of his face up, and extricated his hand from the witch's carefully and rubbed at wild raven locks with it, glancing back over hesitantly. "Uh. Yeah, it is, but it's nice here..."

Emma nodded at that, and the dark-haired witch, Ellie, perked up at the sudden train of questions, shooting a small smile between Harry and Huiliang. "Have you met anyone you like here yet?" she pitched in.

"Like?" Harry's expression tightened, and he sat more upright. He'd agreed to Huiliang's invitations the past few days to study after class with her and her two friends, hoping she was just being friendly. He did need to catch up, and she'd seemed extremely excited to help him, saying she had all her old assignments for the year. And to be honest, he'd been having a hard time focusing on schoolwork around Tom, who despite having been very reserved all week had taken up most of his thoughts.

Harry blinked a few times, and her two friends huddled together to smother a sudden suspicious fit of giggles, and he frowned when the lights dimmed on their side some, putting him and the witch in the shadows and his text unreadable. "I suppose... I mean, you all have been really helpful and my dorm-mates are really great," he hedged, causing the witch beside him to laugh too.

"You're funny Harry, and sweet too," Huiliang said coyly, and then she shifted closer, a blush apparent on her cheeks. She placed her hand on Harry's leg, and the wild-haired wizard looked down at it. "I really like you."

"Oh, uh, thank you, Huiliang..." Harry said, stumbling over his words, his mind buzzing and trying to warn him of something he couldn't quite make out. He looked up to say he should go when glossed lips pressed to his mouth.

* * *

Tom stood in the open air doorway near the Ravenclaw dorms, muscles rigid and gaze frozen on the scene before him, not noticing when Nagini slowly spiraled down his arm until her tail released his wrist to drop onto the stone floor with a soft thud.

"Can I?"

Tom blinked once, his jaw flexed, and he looked down at his familiar and away from Harry and the Ravenclaw witch. Soft black locks felt into narrowed grey eyes, and the tall wizard felt something inside his chest, clawing and twisting like it wanted to get out.

He smiled slowly despite it, lips curling up, flashing perfectly white teeth, and the feeling welled inside him even more. "Yes," he hissed out lowly, "and make sure to greet Chang too."

Nagini lowered her head to the floor, and Tom watched silently as she began to slither over worn, grey stones, towards the group.

* * *

"Oh Tom, hey. What are you doing in here so early? I saw Avery in the common room with Lestrange."

Grey eyes didn't look up.

Harry stopped just inside the dorm, the door closing behind him with a solid click. He eyed the tall wizard sitting on his bed, curtains tied back still. He was reading in a pair of black pajama pants, no shirt or socks, his hair was wet like he'd just showered. The book he was holding was bound in an ancient black leather, no words visible on its cover. Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Nagini found me, she said you let her?" he asked, hesitantly.

Tom still didn't look up. "Yes, I assume that was fine?"

"Yeah, of course." Harry moved further into the room, glancing around so he wasn't staring at the half-undressed wizard, who he'd barely interacted with all week. He stopped at his bed. "Is she usually aggressive towards strangers?"

Grey eyes slowly turned up, the expression behind them distant. "She's a snake."

Harry set his bag atop green sheets distractedly, the wizard's voice cold, and he felt a shiver run down his spine. He blinked a few times, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his head as he fought the urge to pull his wand for some reason. Instead he opened the leather flap to check on said familiar, only to find her curled up asleep inside a green jumper he'd tossed in that morning, just the top of her triangular head visible. He turned back around. "I just mean, I had to take her away from Chang, you know the Ravenclaw witch who's been helping me, I think she was going to attack her."

Tom leaned back at that, setting his book aside as he rested against propped up pillows, exposing his pale, tone chest and abs more clearly. He tilted his head to the side, dark wet bangs partially obscuring unimpressed, cold grey eyes. "Nagini isn't big enough to eat her, so I doubt there was any real concern."

"I guess..." Harry frowned, not sure what else to say, and then he turned away to pull off his tie and shirt, feeling agitated. The witch had been more than a little upset by a fang-baring Nagini wrapping around her leg, but she'd seemed even more shaken up when Harry'd had to use parseltongue to subdue the familiar. Her friends had seemed shaken up too.

The memory agitated something in his thoughts, ghost-like whispers suddenly sounding like they were all around him. He rubbed at his right temple roughly as he began to feel like he was almost somewhere else; there were books, and a wizard and witch he didn't know looking at him in obvious concern.

Parselmouth... You Know Who... Dark... Always knew...

Harry grimaced as the flashes of words subsided, the people vanishing with them. His temples pulsing angrily, he shook his head faintly, and he started to undo buttons, feeling even more agitated. He stared down at his comforter, trying to ground his mind, his fingers unsteady—but then pale hands were suddenly covering them, steadying them for him.

"Harry," was whispered.

"Yeah Tom...?" Harry felt his breath catch in his chest when Tom's larger, lean body pressed up against his back, and a jagged exhale sounded behind him that made his heart start to dance traitorously.

"Did you just remember something?" was asked quietly, tightly.

Harry cleared his throat. "Uh, I think so... but I couldn't really make it out," he admitted.

"I see," the wizard said, still quiet, his voice edged with a whisper of tension, and then he slid open Harry's shirt for him. Harry swallowed hard as a pale finger began to trace in a whisper-light touch along his collarbone. "About Chang"—when it reached the center it began to trail down between his ribs—"I saw you kiss her tonight."

Harry grimaced, remembering the awkward incident unwillingly. He laughed, the sound rough. "Ah, sorry."

"Have you changed your mind about her?" was asked lowly against his ear. The taller wizard's hand settled on his lower stomach just above his pants line, not moving but causing heat to rush down further below, and Harry shivered.

"Ah..." Harry said, and he blinked rapidly, trying to think clearly when all he wanted to do was guide the wizard's hand down even further, "not really."

"Do you want to continue this?" Tom asked in a low murmur, and he began to scrape nails over the soft skin that edged black slacks, the skin turning a light red in their wake.

"Yeah," Harry said roughly, ignoring his own uncertainty, and he swallowed hard, his body responding eagerly, "I do."

"Then you should know, I don't like anyone to touch what belongs to me," the wizard said lowly, his nails continuing to scrape along increasingly sensitive skin. "It makes me very... upset."

Harry groaned when a single finger dipped beneath his waistline, trailing a softer, teasing path from hip to hip that missed a certain needy spot just barely with each passing, the skin of his lower stomach heated up from the light abuse, tingling.

He felt the taller wizard's chest and stomach press more firmly against his back, and he closed green eyes as he tried to think, all the skin contact intoxicating. "You want to be exclusive?" he asked distractedly, surprised despite it, and he bit back another low rumble when the finger stopped to rest just above his aching body part.

"Don't be foolish," the wizard said at a private level, and his hand slipped down slowly.

Harry pressed lips together firmly, and he forced his mental faculties to engage and focus. "I. I don't understand then," he said breathily, barely resisting pressing himself against the open palm inside his slacks, refusing to appease his growing discomfort. "What do you mean?"

Tom dipped his chin and let a pressing exhale escape onto the nape of Harry's neck, his lips curled up when Harry made an 'ah' sound, and he palmed the wizard firmly and then said, "I mean I want you, for myself, no one else."

Dark brows furrowed, Harry struggling to make sense of the qualification. "I... I, u—Ah, I, I don't see..."

Another set of nimble fingers began to undo tight buttons. "You do, you just don't want to," was whispered. "Will you give yourself to me?"

Harry's face screwed up in an expression that bordered between irritation and confusion. "Give myself?" he asked roughly.

Tom hummed as he undid the final button of Harry's trousers, and he began to slide his hand over the wizard more freely. "Yes," he hissed, "I want you, Harry. Yes or no?"

Harry swallowed thickly, and he felt like his mind was trying desperately to split in half. He hesitated even as his breaths grew heavier, a slight sheen forming on his chest, that was heaving like he was running. "I... Only if you'll do the same. It has to be mutual, what we have."


	19. Chapter 19

Harry sat, Tom on one side, Avery on the other. The three Slytherins were seated in Transfiguration near the back of the room, a long wooden table in front of them. Their classmates surrounding them were listening in varying degrees of nervousness to a seemingly oblivious Professor Dumbledore, who was talking animatedly about something down at the front of the class.

Harry cleared his throat as he resisted shifting closer to the dark-haired wizard seated on his left.

Tom was sitting slightly leaned over a piece of parchment writing. Fitted black trousers covered his long legs, a crisp white shirt hid his tone torso and arms, and intense grey eyes were visible despite hanging raven bangs. Harry found himself staring.

"Something wrong, Harry?" was murmured.

Harry looked up with a start to meet a sideways glance from Avery. "Oh, uh, no," he whispered back as quietly as he could, and the blond rubbed the end of his quill across his cheek in return, lips twitching in a suspicious upward fashion before he began to take notes again.

The restless wizard shifted in his seat, adjusting his straight green and silver tie, and he tried to focus on Dumbledore, who had just started rattling off wizard after wizard who had severely maimed themself through self-transfiguration, and who he swore kept looking up at him. He knew the older wizard wanted to meet with him again; he'd mentioned on several occasions in just the last few days—after class, in the Great Hall, as Harry was making his way to the loos—that he was welcome to visit him, that he knew where his office was, and that he was always available if Harry needed someone to talk to or just some candy.

Harry ran a hand up into his hair and grabbed a handful of wild locks on the top of his head as he slouched on his elbow. He had information now that he should absolutely share with the professor... well, if he was trustworthy... and Tom didn't seem to think so.

The Slytherin's attention drifted again to his dorm-mate beside him.

Tom hadn't answered Harry's counter offer. Yet. Because he was expecting an answer. The taller wizard had said he would think about it. He'd 'consider it' had been his exact words, before he'd dedicated all his attention to making Harry groan his name.

Harry frowned some, doodling on his parchment, and he almost wished he'd just agreed to the proposition, because after hearing Tom say that he wanted him so much, Harry found he wanted him even more. The wizard's intensity seemed to fuel something inside of him, and he felt like he was losing it a little. Well, if he had anything to lose that is, the amnesiac wizard amended.

He leaned towards his dorm-mate.

"Tom, about last night," Harry started to say privately, stopping when he drew the tall wizard's attention. He wet his lips as he met stormy grey eyes up close, his breath catching a little. He felt Tom's knee bump his under the table. "I think—"

"Ah! Mr. Potter," was said from the front of the class, "Please understand that talking during class is not condoned here at Hogwarts."

Harry looked down with a start. "Oh. I'm sorry, Professor," he said, thoroughly abashed.

"It's quite all right, Harry, I understand that you are still acclimating," was said in a more warm manner. The grey-bearded wizard, dressed in deep blue robes that almost looked black with twinkling white specks covering them, smiled up at him.

Harry started to respond when a hand settled on his thigh under the table, and he was suddenly speechless. He shot a surprised glance over to Tom, who was looking at him straight on, his lips cocked up ever so slightly. He heard a throat clear, and he spoke up a little hoarse: "Thank you, Professor, it"—the hidden hand slid further up, and it gave a squeeze—"uh... it, it won't happen again."

"I'm sure it won't," was said cheerfully enough, "That reminds me, would you mind coming by my office this evening? I have just a few things to go over with you, I promise I won't keep you too long."

Harry nodded as he looked down at his desk, a flush running up the nape of his neck. "Of course, Professor."

A black journal was slid over in front of Harry discreetly, and the wizard puzzled at the blank pages.

"Write something," was whispered softly in his ear as the hand slipped from his leg.

Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second, glancing up at the front of the room, and then he lifted his quill and scribbled down quickly with a small shrug.

 _Hello_.

Harry watched, black brows lifting, as the ink appeared to soak into the page and disappeared.

Then perfectly scripted words slowly began to bleed through the parchment, like it had soaked through from the page beneath it.

**Hello, Harry.**

Harry huffed a surprised breath, and he flipped the page over just to check it was blank. Then he watched as more words began to appear.

**It appears you've gotten into some trouble.**

The wizard failed to suppress a wry grin. He dipped his quill and started to write back, its tip scratching the parchment.

_Yeah, I guess so. How are you responding?_

One word appeared in place of the question once it was gone.

**Magic.**

Harry grinned more widely, and he leaned his forehead on his hand, toying at a lock of mussed hair, as he thought over what he wanted to say. Maybe he should ask if he'd decided yet, or maybe he should—

**Dumbledore is coming.**

Harry looked up with a jerk, and he saw the old professor almost to him. He glanced back down, worried, only to find the page half filled with notes on the class he hadn't been following.

The professor's twinkling blue eyes scanned the Slytherin table as he passed. "And so that is why we will begin transfiguring hair first, no pain receptors and it re-grows," was said serenely as he continued to make his way around the classroom. "Everyone please lift your wands and repeat after me...—"

* * *

_Green eyes. They were uncommon._

Tom pressed his lips together in a tight line at the peculiar thought. It was true though. Green eyes weren't overly common. No one in Slytherin had them. Until now. Until Harry.

Lips pressed together harder. The door opened and shut behind the tall wizard.

"I think I'm in love."

Tom pulled a fitted shirt down over his head, not turning around as he smoothed midnight locks back in place. "Of course you are."

An easy laugh filled the space, one that spoke of too much firewhiskey, amongst other indulgences. "Just wait. Some day you'll find your match, and then I will be there to taunt you." There was some shuffling of material. "Where's Harry?"

Tom didn't respond, grey eyes intently studying the patch of wall framed by his four poster, as he stood in front of his bed in a pair of green pajama pants and a grey t-shirt. His outfit he had cleaned with a quick charm, after having changed, was laid folded neatly on his bed before him. He never used the castle's elves for his laundry, not since he'd taught himself the simple charm the first week of first year.

"You didn't mess things up, did you? He seems so into you lately."

Tom let out a measured breath silently, and he turned to meet his friend's gaze. "He's meeting with Professor Dumbledore still," he said in a neutral voice. "And there's nothing to mess up between us, he's a dormmate. That's it," he said more coolly.

Avery stood silent for a moment in front of the dorm's door still dressed in his slacks and button up for the day, his black trench coat draped over his arm. He slowly broke out into a grin and let out a barking laugh. "So you checked up on him?"

Tom lifted his chin even as his mind began to hum, and his fingers twitched on his right hand as it hung by his side, his wand on the bed behind him. He had, in fact, checked up on the wizard, and he wasn't remotely pleased with how long Harry's meeting with Dumbledore was lasting. Something wasn't right. "Avery," he said quietly, his words tightly strung, "you're forgetting yourself, you should get some rest."

The blond's exuberant expression slowly faded, and he glanced around the otherwise empty dorm as he took a half-step towards him. "Tom, I don't mean anything by it, if you like Harry—"

Tom sneered, his friend stopping short at it, and his pulse began to quicken. "I don't _like_ Harry. How many times do I have to tell you that? I'm trying to find out what he's hiding from us, because he is. He's hiding something big."

Avery shook his head slowly. "But, I wasn't. I just—Harry's a friend," he said, his tone growing suddenly defensive as he continued, "He's not just some wizard in our House who you've decided to mess with for no apparent reason. Don't do this Tom, you're a good person, and Harry is too, he's really nice, and you two've obviously—"

Tom let out a sharp laugh, cutting him off, and he advanced on his friend, his lips curling up when he noticed the blond lean back slightly but keep his stance at his approach. "What's wrong, _Benjamin_?" he hissed as the wizard finally took a step back, making his blood race even faster in his veins, and he didn't fight it this time, "I thought I was a good person."

Avery shook his head, his gaze dropping to the floor. "What's wrong with you lately? You've been so different ever since summer break, did something happen at the orphan-"

Tom's hand shot up before Avery could finish, and a surge of magic flew down his arm and out of his fingertips—and his friend was flung back and hit the door.

He held his hand up, holding him there up against it. "Don't you _dare_ talk about that," he said lowly, taking a step closer, grey eyes wide with rage, lips curling back, "You have _no right. No right AT ALL_."

His lips twitched, and he splayed his fingers out further, letting out more pent-up magic that had surged at the words and felt like it wanted to drown him. He felt it buzzing in the air, making him light-headed. Grey eyes slowly narrowed, hardening, and the door began to creak under the growing weight. How dare he. How dare he bring that up. Tom's mind began to pound like a pulse, persistent and clear in its single need, and he could barely make out words directed at him when he started.

His hand dropped, and he watched numbly as the gasping wizard followed suit, Avery's knees giving out as he slumped onto the floor. He watched his best friend slowly fall onto his side just like his father had—and he moved forward, dropping to his knees in a sudden rush. "Avery, are you okay?"

The wizard let out a breathy laugh, blue eyes pinching shut. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," he said, and then he let out a pained breath as he hugged himself like he might fall apart. "I just - need a moment..."

Grey eyes blinked rapidly, fingers clenching and unclenching. "Let me help you," Tom said, and he slipped an arm around his friend's waist and stood up slowly as the wizard grunted in protest with each little bit of straightening. He walked him carefully to his bed, lowering down with him to sit on its edge as his thoughts raced. He looked into blue eyes glazed with pain. "I didn't mean to do that."

The blond nodded. "No I know. It's okay."

Tom closed his eyes, anger rushing in his chest again, and he felt the bed dip as the wizard shifted closer to fill the space, and then his friend's forehead rested against his, and he let it stay. "I'm sorry," he forced out the foreign words.

"No you're not," was said, and then a soft huff brushed against his chin, and he flexed his jaw. "You do like Harry, don't you?" was asked in a roughened voice. "I've never seen you act the way you do around him."

Tom swallowed, his throat dry, because he felt exposed in a way he never had before—weak—and it only made the maddening feeling swirling in his chest grow. "It doesn't matter," he said in a quietly contained voice, and he breathed in his friend's breath, alcohol sweetening its familiar scent. "Do you always need to be so drunk to shag the person you love?"

Lips brushed against his cheek as Avery chuckled, and his own lips twitched sharply in response. "I'm worried about you."

Tom shook his head faintly. "Don't be," he said, struggling.

"I can't help it," was whispered. "If you like Harry, don't fight it. He seems good for you."

Tom didn't respond. He stood slowly as Avery lowered onto his bed with a soft groan, moving away from the blond and back to his own bed, his movements wooden, feeling like he might implode, and he didn't know why. He just needed some rest; he'd feel better in the morning.

 


	20. Chapter 20

Grey eyes opened at the same time a whoosh of air escaped tight lungs under porcelain skin that was painted in a wet sheen of tension. Weathered slate bricks and then drawn green curtains slowly took over the attention of a racing mind.

Tom worked to slow his breathing, the furious pumping inside his chest refusing to quiet.

He closed his eyes, swallowed once, and focused.

The tall wizard sat up abruptly, and he felt the air, cold, skate across his exposed back. He looked down, clammy, the pale moonlight exposing trembling hands, and he clenched them shut into fists.

He shouldn't have remembered that; it shouldn't have been possible after having blocked the mental picture from his conscious.

He needed—his mind tremored—he needed—

He was walking across cold flooring that stung the soles of his feet, not sure when he'd even stood up, and then he was standing in front of another's bed, and he gritted his teeth before slipping between curtains.

Harry was lying asleep on his side, no glasses, in black pajama pants, the tops of which were peeking out of the wizard's green duvet. His left hand was hidden under his pillow, the other slung over it, hugging it, unaware as Tom climbed over him and behind him.

The tall wizard slid down the wizard's blankets off his legs to uncover him completely and then settled behind him.

He lay on his side.

Harry shivered, and he watched.

"Mmh."

Tom didn't move.

Harry frowned in his sleep and then rolled over, eyes still closed, pinched stubbornly, and the wizard moved towards Tom, until the front of his body pressed up against his.

A sharp breath was hissed in between clenched white teeth, lungs filling too much, but the Slytherin held still at the feelings that he wanted gone. It was different, so much different.

Grey eyes slipped shut as an unconscious Harry murmured unintelligibly and cuddled against him, burying his face against his chest, wild, pitch-black hair poking him softly. He fought to exhale, but all of his muscles had tensed. Ready. He felt the sleeping wizard slowly mimic his stiff posture.

"...Tom...?" Harry pulled back some, green orbs sleepy but concerned as they tilted up. "You all right?"

The wizard didn't respond, the held exhale finally escaping him. He reached out instead and took the wizard by the wrist, and placed his left hand deliberately on his chest. He met the widening and increasingly alert gaze with his own wired one. "I want to feel you, like you felt me."

Harry didn't move his hand from the center of the wizard's porcelain chest. He tried to clear his sleep-heavy thoughts at the unexpected words. "I don't understand..."

Tom's expression hardened slightly. "I want to enjoy it. _This_ ," he said, pressing his hand against him more firmly.

Harry nodded, more than a little unsure, his throat suddenly dry, and he felt like he was being asked something he didn't know how to even begin to answer correctly. He softened his touch when Tom's grip fell away, so his palm was only making contact but without any real pressure, his mind waking up slowly. He felt himself nod minutely again as he gathered his thoughts better. "I can try."

Tom let out a heavy breath and closed his eyes. He waited. Nothing happened right away, and he felt his chest begin to relax, just faintly.

"Just tell me if you don't like it. I'll stop. Okay?"

Tom didn't nod. He waited. "What did Dumbledore need?" he found himself asking.

"He uh—he wanted to know if I'd started remembering more." The fingertips splayed over Tom's sternum and on either side of his ribs some lifted lightly, and there was only a palm just barely resting on his chest.

"What did you say?" he asked, and then he breathed out slowly, and it lightened even more. He pressed his lips together when he felt a small tingling rush in his upper body he didn't recognize. There was hesitance. It was different.

"I said no... Tom... Orion, he didn't hurt you... did he? I need to know before I go on."

Tom held eyelids shut more firmly as something welled. "No one hurts me anymore, Harry."

There was a pause, and then the wizard removed his hand. Tom waited. He felt the bed shake beneath him a considerable amount, and blankets were draped over him some, and then, he felt Harry's body _slowly_ make contact with his, but not as he'd expected.

Grey eyes opened, and the tall wizard found Harry's back pressed up against his front, the both of them covered. He wet surprisingly dry lips. "What are you doing?"

Harry shifted back more against him, and it didn't feel wrong. "What you asked," he said quietly.

Tom accepted the explanation with wariness, and he found himself studying the nape of the wizard's neck, and his lips curled in a rush of anger before relaxing once more, a burst of silent air slipping from his lips. He watched the wizard shiver in front of him.

"I've been thinking about your offer. From the other day," was said in a low murmur.

Tom blinked. "And?"

Harry slipped his left hand once more under his pillow he was now sharing with Tom, and his right over it. He exhaled audibly. "I think I want you to help me... if you're still willing."

The tall wizard answered immediately, without the slightest hesitation. "I am."

Harry sighed again, and his body seemed to relax against Tom as one with the exhaling breath. "Okay, I'm ready to start whenever you are."

The wizard started to say right then, but then he stopped himself as he noticed the wizard's body against his wasn't bothering him at that moment. He noticed his own body relaxing some too. He let out a silent breath. "Tomorrow after class, in the astronomy tower, will that work for you?"

Harry nodded. "Sounds good," he said, sounding relieved. They lay together for a few long beats before he spoke up again. "I'm glad you came in, I was having a weird dream."

Tom carefully settled his right hand on Harry's side and then slowly slid it around the wizard, keeping his breathing steady when it tried to stop until he found himself lying with his arm draped around the wizard, the sensation oddly warming. "Do you want to share it?" he asked.

Harry said nothing for a moment. "Not really. What about you, why were you up?"

Grey eyes darkened at the reminder. They closed. "Bad dream."

Harry shifted around some to get more comfortable, brushing Tom's body with his own in various places as he did. "Sorry. What about?"

Tom exhaled, the action hard again. "Things that are better not remembered. Ever."

Harry stilled at that. "Oh. I'm sorry."

A thick silence followed. After a few moments, he felt Harry's chest expand under his arm, lifting it some, and then the wizard spoke back up, the words sounding like they were part of a running thought. "What if I'm a bad person?"

Tom wet his lips, the top then bottom. "What do you define as bad?" he asked quietly.

"Someone who hurts people," Harry said, and then he turned, rolling over without warning to face Tom, and the taller wizard stiffened, Harry not seeming to notice or maybe expecting it as he settled to lie facing him, his gaze downcast. "I keep having these memories... I mean I think they're memories"—the wizard shook his head, rubbing at his face—"What if you help me, and I find out I don't like who I was?"

Vivid green eyes turned up, meeting stormy grey.

Tom felt a hand touch the side of his neck gently, and he drew in a breath carefully, the touch soothing him in a way he'd never felt before. "Then you deal with it," he said, "Things are not black and white, Harry. Good and bad, dark and light: those distinctions, they mean nothing, they're just labels put on us to judge us."

"You don't know though," Harry persisted, "you don't know what I've seen."

Tom studied the wizard before him, and his expression grew more intense. "I don't need to, if you have hurt someone, then they _deserved_ it. What have you seen?"

Harry swallowed hard. "Anger. I'm so _angry_ ," he said, shaking his head, the emotion welling up without his permission at his admission, and he gritted his teeth as he tried to contain it. The bed began to shake some beneath them as his magic began to surge with the toxic emotion. "And, people die, lots of people, I don't know if it's because of me or not, but I feel like it is. I don't know, it's just so confusing. I shouldn't be here, it was a mistake, I-"

"Harry," was said, and the wizard tried to focus. "Harry, look at me."

Harry felt a whoosh of air race from his lungs, and he forced his gaze up to meet Tom's again, and the bed began to shake more as he felt the urge to hurt the wizard. He was bad, he was very bad.

"Harry. Breathe," Tom said, despite his veins thrumming under the feel of the powerful wizard's magic flooding the space. He leaned in closer, and when he was hovering just in front of parted lips, he said: "Kiss me."

Lips met his a little too softly, and he was grasping the back of Harry's neck, meeting the touch with a sudden reckless intensity.

Hands slid up his chest without permission, and he growled, the bed shaking even harder in response, magic curling around him, pressing, and he breathed it in fully, his lungs burning, welcoming it.

He felt fingers trail down then, and his eyes clenched shut as a hand tugged at his pants. " _Yes_ ," he forced out, and he felt Harry begin to move down, pressing his lips to his chest and stomach in a needy way that made his body begin to respond. He grabbed a fistful of wild black hair, his left thumb brushing the wizard's forehead, and he felt a jolt shoot up his arm and into his chest, filling it with something it was missing, and he groaned when lips found his leaking, hardened body member.

He rocked his hips forward, pushing between parted lips, and he felt Harry's throat spasm around the tip. "Shhhh, it's okay," he said, thrusting into Harry's hot mouth more gently, and he couldn't hold back another groan when lips hummed around him. "I'll give you what you asked for," he said quietly, "Us. But don't make me regret it."

Harry nodded slightly, and Tom's lips twitched as he continued to rock in the wizard's mouth. Hands were gripping his bare sides, heating his body, and he felt a tightening up down low, encouraging the tightly spoken words, "I want you to swallow it."

Green eyes looked up wide and pure, and Tom met the gaze straight on, dark grey eyes heavily-lidded, as he began to pulse in the wizard's mouth. Harry felt good.


	21. Chapter 21

Harry walked alongside Tom, Avery beside him, the three Slytherins on their way to History of Magic early Tuesday morning.

The lean wizard's tie was a little loose from where he'd been tugging at it during Transfiguration, and his top button was undone. The uneventful meeting with his professor the day before had only seemed to exacerbate the old wizard's interest in him, which he guessed was normal. After all, he'd traveled back in time, and he couldn't remember anything but small flashes, which he wasn't sharing, and Tom had told him the object that had most likely brought him there was cursed...

The object he'd kept secret from the older wizard was _cursed_. Maybe that was why he couldn't shake the discomfort he felt in the older wizard's presence. Dumbledore had expected him, and he'd arrived via a cursed object; it didn't make him have the utmost faith in the wizard. Not to mention Tom's wariness towards the professor made things more complicated.

Harry grimaced some at the thought, shoving his hands in his front pockets, resisting rubbing at tired eyes. He wasn't sure what he thought might happen if he did confide in the transfiguration professor, who seemed to run the school when the Headmaster was gone. He just knew that the longer he was there, the less he wanted to, and he could tell Tom was uncomfortable with it, despite his not saying anything. It all felt wrong somehow, and to be honest, he was more than a little surprised he was being given such leeway the more he thought over it, considering everything. Although, at the time when it had all been decided he'd attend school like a regular student, there was the assumption he'd regain his memories at some point he supposed... and share them too... He wondered if things would change if, or when, the professor caught on his assumptions were just that, unfounded.

Dumbledore'd seemed so certain he could trust him implicitly was the odd thing.

Harry held back another grimace, this one edged with a niggling of guilt he couldn't account for. He remembered the first time he'd seen Dumbledore; he'd felt a swelling of emotions, but the predominant one had been a sense of wrongness at the situation, like the wizard shouldn't have been there. Maybe he was dead in his time. He'd also felt a plethora of emotions at seeing Tom too though, and they'd all been negative.

The lean Slytherin ruffled an anxious hand through wild, pitch-black locks as he moved around a group of upper-class Slytherin witches standing in the middle of the hall talking and giggling over something, wishing he could just maybe start with a clean slate. All his memories so far had been unpleasant, to put it lightly, and he was here now, and he'd started to get attached to this 'new life' and possibly some of the people as well, and the fact that he wasn't a murderer here either was a bonus.

"Hello Harry."

Harry shot a polite smile up at the three Slytherin witches from their own year, who he'd interacted with only a handful of times over the past two and a half weeks since he'd been there, not sure exactly which had addressed him. The three raven-haired witches Alyse Greengrass, Briony Parkinson and Marla Lestrange were wearing matching short skirts and white button downs with appropriately colored, striped ties. He'd been introduced through Avery, who while clearly only close friends with Tom, was much more outgoing, though compared to Tom that really wasn't saying much.

"Hello," he said to the small group, receiving bigger smiles from Greengrass and Parkinson in response, Lestrange focused on his blond dormmate at his side. He slowed a little but didn't stop when Briony Parkinson spoke up.

"Harry, are you going to try out for the team tomorrow? Malfoy mentioned at breakfast you were."

Harry found himself scrubbing at his hair, stopping begrudgingly at the question. He shot a look around the busy hallway, and then he gave a small shrug, feeling the odd urge to hex the Head Boy the next time he saw him over the simple statement. He found he _really_ didn't like Abraxas Malfoy, everything about him made Harry irrationally angry, and the platinum blond Slytherin _really_ wanted him to join the team. Which made him want to _really_ not join the team. "I might, I'm not sure yet," he said back.

Alyse Greengrass, who seemed the quietest of the three witches, pushed heavy black bangs back from her face to study Harry, bright blue eyes curious. "You were a Seeker? I play Keeper, we could really use the help."

Harry caught Tom adjusting his tie in his peripheral, and he glanced over to see the tall Slytherin by his side staring down the hall, quiet grey eyes distant, not acknowledging the always curious looks focused on him. Harry found he appreciated the aloofness of his... dormmate, because it seemed to keep other students from approaching him too much, particularly anyone outside of Slytherin. Not that he disliked most people or those from other Houses—at least he didn't think so—but he hadn't been in the mood for mingling really since his arrival, and with his situation, that was probably for the best.

"Yeah, uh, I was, I'll think about it," he said again, hesitantly, and when the two witches began to talk animatedly about the team and the players he found himself fidgeting, fighting the sudden urge to just leave as he tried without success to remember ever playing quidditch. He adjusted the strap of his carrying bag distractedly across his chest, searching fruitlessly for something he somehow knew to be fact—he had played, he was positive—despite not being able to recall a _single_ incident, and his agitation grew. Could he even play anymore, he could fly okay but—

"We should go to class now," Tom said shortly, cutting into the girls' one-sided conversation, and he looked down at the three witches, drawing all of their undivided attention with a small closed-mouth smile. "I'm sure Harry will try out if it is something he wants to do."

He turned away then without waiting for a response, Harry hiding a small smile as he did the same, happy for the escape, and he felt his shoulder brush the taller wizard's arm as they began to walk side-by-side once more.

"Hey, I'll catch up in a sec," Avery called out. The blond had clearly been lost to the group of girls, who didn't seem in any hurry to get to their mutual class, Lestrange, having gained his full attention by grabbing his tie as he'd started to turn away too.

He was being backed up against the wall by the tall witch at that very moment, seeming quite pleased with his predicament.

Tom only hummed noncommittally, and Harry shot a wry grin at the taller wizard beside him, something in his chest dancing around as his gaze lingered on Tom's lean lines as they now walked alone. He'd been more than a little surprised waking up to find the reserved wizard in his bed in the middle of the night, and his request had shocked him even more.

He felt heat rush up the back of his neck as he remembered what he'd done with the quiet wizard for what felt like the first time... at least it had been a first for him personally. He cleared his throat, wanting to ask if Tom had ever done those things, but he refrained, something about how the wizard had responded to his advances told him yes.

He pressed his lips together and stuffed agitated hands into his pockets. He didn't know why, but the thought bothered him, a lot.

"All right, Harry?"

"Hm?" Harry looked up as they turned a corner, the sounds of their schoolmates from behind dwindling. He realized he'd been staring down at his shoes until just then. "Oh yeah"—he balled his hands into fists still inside his pockets—"Avery and Lestrange, they seem like they're getting serious," he said offhandedly, and he looked out the line of arched windows to his left, birds chirping and the sky a light blue, the air crisp and light.

"I give it two weeks, Avery is not the most loyal when it comes to dating," Tom said with what almost sounded amusement, stormy grey eyes perusing the not quite empty hallway before them that led to their History of Magic room. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said with a shrug, dark brows lifting a little in surprise. He shot a glance down the hallway to see what had caught Tom's attention.

A few wizards dressed in green and silver stood near the end by a window, one of them clearly the Head Boy. Harry's expression darkened, and then he noted one Orion Black watching them approach with obvious interest. _Black. Black_. The surname toyed with his subconscious and conscious, some feeling that he couldn't place putting him on edge.

There was laughter, and the older wizard pushed off the wall he'd been leaning on, patting a sneering Head Boy by his side on the chest in a patronizing manner, and he turned to face the younger Slytherins. He cocked his head some, his gaze darting between Harry and Tom before settling on the latter, and a smile curled up handsome features. "Tom, _there_ you are, I feel like you've been avoiding me."

Harry stopped beside Tom, the taller wizard with his wand out already, looking bored, and Nagini slipped her head out from under the cuff of his sleeve, flicking her forked tongue in the older wizard's approaching direction with a low warning hiss. Harry pulled his own wand out from his pocket along with his hands that had been conveniently stuffed inside, and he resisted raising it.

"And why would I ever avoid you?" Tom asked, rolling his wand between his thumb and index lazily as it pointed casually in the direction of an observant Orion, who'd stopped with still a few feet separating them, the older wizard still smiling but less sure. Tom glazed over the wizard's friends, confirming they were not armed with a quiet satisfaction. "That would require work on my part, and I have no desire to waste any effort on you, Black."

The Black heir's smile dropped abruptly at that, his friends snickering behind him. "What did you say to me?" he snapped, starting to advance when Tom's arm lifted fully, Nagini snapping out at the air in warning and stopping him short.

"Don't even think about it, I'll make you regret _ever_ crossing me," the wizard hissed out.

Orion shot him a wary look, but he backed up a step. "I don't understand, I thought we—"

"You were wrong," Tom said back succinctly, his words indifferent once more, and then he smiled, widely, a dimple showing on his left cheek that rarely revealed itself. "You understand, I'm sure." The tall wizard turned his wrist then subtly, just a couple degrees clockwise. "You should go back to your friends now."

Orion blinked a few times, and a look of confusion began to cloud the older Slytherin's gaze, taking over his features. "Yeah... yeah, you're right, sorry for bothering you," he said, sounding unsure of his own words.

"Not a problem," Tom said back easily, then he gave a slight nod of his head. "Go on."

Harry watched in confusion as the wizard turned away and walked back obediently, his steps wooden, and his friends appearing gobsmacked. Then he looked to the wizard beside him, his grip tightening around his own wand.

Green eyes narrowed as they met knowing grey.

"We should go too, Harry, class starts soon," Tom said coolly, the tall wizard squaring himself subtly towards Harry while still watching the older Slytherins, who were distracted trying to get an unresponsive Orion's attention.

Harry let out a slow breath, and his forehead began to pulse in a certain spot. He heard concerned whispering as he held Tom's challenging gaze, his jaw flexed, his wand tingling warm in his grip. He opened his mouth to protest when a hand settled on his shoulder heavily.

"Hey guys, sorry I took so long," Avery said, sounding a little breathless. "You good, Tom?" was asked after a second, the words more tight.

Tom said nothing, but he slowly backed off, turning away after a few steps. Harry watched him walk off, a growing feeling of unease causing every muscle in his body to tense.

"Oi." The blond glanced at their older housemates just a few yards away with an air of suspicion before tugging on Harry to move him away and towards their class. "Come on, Harry, we don't want to hang out here," he said more quietly.

Harry nodded faintly. "Yeah, okay, Avery."

 


	22. Chapter 22

Harry jumped off his broom, laughing as the wizard with him slid to a sideways stop less than a foot in front of him and just inches from a tall and very solid wall.

"You're completely mental," he said, somewhat breathless, but with a grin, blue eyes peering down at him dancing with excitement. He and Avery had been flying for the last two hours, and the sky above the otherwise empty quidditch pitch was now a huge, black blanket sprinkled messily with stars, a new moon hanging somewhere unseen.

Avery laughed as he threw his leg over and hopped down from the hovering broomstick. "Yeah, well, insanity helps in a house like Slytherin," he quipped back.

Harry's smile slowly fell away, his chest still rising and falling too quickly from exertion, and Avery slung an arm around his shoulders, pushing the hood of his sweatshirt up, and he began to tug him towards the nearest set of stairs. "Don't take everything so seriously, Harry," he chided with another laugh.

The dark-haired wizard scrubbed at wind-blown locks as they stopped, Avery dropping down to sit on the first row, and the tall Slytherin leaned back, settling his forearms on the bench behind him and grinned up at him crookedly. Harry had invited his dormmate flying, and he'd accepted enthusiastically. He'd wanted to test his abilities out some more before he decided what he was going to do about tryouts the next day, and Avery had just seemed like he had a death wish.

Pitch-black brows pulled down and in some as he studied the blond, who'd been unusually unpredictable the entire evening, not mentioning their other dormmate even once, when he'd usually bring him up at least periodically. Tom hadn't talked to Avery at all after the incident outside of History of Magic, but he had told Harry before disappearing after classes, that he'd be in the Astronomy Tower until curfew... if he wanted to find him 'to talk.' Harry felt a pang of guilt as he looked down at the wizard before him who'd clearly taken his side earlier in the hall. "You doing okay tonight, Avery?"

Avery sighed, running a hand up to smooth down silky blond hair. His gaze dropped as he said, "Yeah I'm sorry, I guess I'm feeling a little off."

Harry sat down beside the wizard. "Something bothering you?"

Avery smiled some at that, the expression a little tight. "Nothing I can't handle."

Harry nodded slightly. He scrubbed at his hair. "You're a bloody good flyer, why don't you go out for the team?"

The tall blond huffed an amused breath, and he let his chin drop back as he studied the darkened sky. "Ah, I'm not really a team player, Harry," he said quietly, then he sniffed and looked over, his expression suddenly lighter. "Are you going to try out tomorrow?"

The dark-haired wizard felt his lips curl up at the question, and a surge of anticipation rushed in his chest at the mere prospect of trying out for the Seeker position. "Yeah, I think so, even though I'm pretty sure I'll end up hexing Malfoy before the first match."

Avery let out a laugh, the sound easy once more. "Sounds about right, just make sure you wait until I'm there to see it."

"I'll do my best," Harry said, grinning more widely at the thought as he settled back, mirroring his friend's position. He sat quietly for a few beats, enjoying the cool air on his exposed skin, before asking the question that had been weighing heavily on his mind for most of the day. "So Orion Black"—he cleared his throat—"is he a nice guy?" The question was met with a laugh, and he added quickly, "I just mean—"

"Harry," Avery said with a knowing smirk, "I understand," and then the blond let out a begrudging breath as he shook his head. "There are much worse wizards than Orion."

Harry didn't say anything, not finding the words overly comforting. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought about what had happened earlier that day.

Tom had done 'something' to cause the older Slytherin to leave, and he needed to talk with him about it. He knew that, he'd been about to, immediately afterward, when Avery had interrupted them; but for some reason, now he was avoiding it. He looked over to the blond, who was fiddling with the hem of his untucked shirt. His dormmate hadn't even changed from his school clothes to go flying with him. "You care about him a lot, don't you?" Blue eyes flicked up. "Tom?"

Avery's smile returned, something about it twisting uncomfortably in Harry's chest. The blond shook his head. "Harry, Tom and I are friends because I don't question him, and I always have his back."

Harry's face pinched in a slight grimace. "Sorry."

Avery leaned back to look up at the sky, and he laughed, the sound hollow. "Don't be. It's my choice, it always has been, I knew what I was getting into back in first, Tom is how he is, it's no one's fault."

Harry sat quietly at that for a long moment. "I think he really does care about you, in his own way."

Avery didn't respond right away, and when he did his words were soft. "Yeah, I know, but sometimes it's hard to find consolation in that."

Harry grimaced again, the words making something inside him ruffle, and he looked over to the easygoing blond, who he'd begun to form a close friendship with. "If it makes you feel any better, you have me now too," he said with a small grin.

Avery tilted his head to the side. "Yeah?" he asked curiously.

Harry wet his lips, the night air cooling them as he looked into blue eyes. "Yeah," he said.

Avery grinned at that, the expression warm. "Thanks, Harry."

* * *

Harry walked out of the bathroom that was attached to his dorm. He shut the door behind him, the sound of a shower turning on barely registering.

The lean wizard dressed in just a pair of black pajama pants fluffed damp locks distractedly as he walked barefoot towards his corner of the room, flickering wall sconces dimly lighting his way. He shot a glance over to Tom's still unoccupied bed, guilt filling his chest unasked; he hadn't gone to the Astronomy Tower, choosing to keep a down Avery company instead.

He scrubbed at his hair more roughly, stubbornly pushing the too soft emotion away for what all had happened, and then he stopped... his attention catching belatedly on a plain black, leather journal lying open on Tom's made bed.

Harry glanced over his shoulder at the bathroom, the shower still running full force, and then he looked to the closed dorm door as he considered what he was about to do.

He took in a slow breath and then began to make his way over, stretching his neck to try to see the pages. He stopped at the edge of his dormmate's bed, looking down at empty parchment, and then before he could think about what he was doing, he picked up Tom's quill from his nightstand, dipped it carefully in the nearby ink well, and sat down on the wizard's four poster for the first time, picking up the journal.

He scribbled messily:

_Are you still in the Astronomy Tower?_

Harry waited, tapping his right foot on cold flooring, as his question sank into the tightly woven parchment and disappeared predictably. He didn't know what he was doing, or why he felt the need to check up on the wizard—

**No. Why do you ask?**

Harry felt something jump in his chest as he stared down at the neatly written response. He leaned over to dip the quill again, his right hand resting flat on the other blank page as he did, and then suddenly several things happened all at once—heat shot up into his hand, the scar on his forehead flared viciously with an excruciating pain, everything around him vanished—and then he felt like he was _falling_.

* * *

Harry fell back hard against something ungiving with a grunt of pain. "What the..."

He planted his hand behind him on cold stones as he slowly pushed himself upright, feeling annoyingly disoriented, green eyes dazed as they tried to make sense of the unexpected scene before them.

He was standing in his DADA classroom; it was empty.

"I hope this will work, it was hard to get on such short notice," was said in a familiar smiling voice, jerking the wizard's attention towards the doorway. Then he felt like his perspective suddenly jumped from his body—

Tom lifted pitch-dark brows, unimpressed, as he strolled into the empty classroom of which the Black heir had somehow acquired use. "Not the best room for practicing potions," he said coolly as he made his way down the short aisle, feeling eyes following him closely.

He turned on his heel, stopping at the teacher's desk to settle down in the empty seat. He leaned forward and met Orion Black's lascivious gaze with a stony one. "I'll warn you now, I don't kiss, and I'm provoked easily."

Orion let out a barking laugh as he stalked towards him. "Straight to the point. I like it." He stopped at the desk to leer down at him. "I don't take direction well though, usually I _give_ it."

Tom leaned back in the high-backed chair, and his wand slid out of his sleeve and into his hand. He began to toy with it absentmindedly as an unarmed Orion straightened back up at the sight of it. "Well you asked for my help," he said slowly, pointing at the noticeably stiff wizard with his wand tip casually, "so either you give it a try, or we have no deal."

Orion said nothing for a long moment, but then he leaned back down, planting both hands squarely on the desk, and he broke into a wide grin. "All right, but you'd better make it worth my while, Riddle."

The wizard held back a dark look as he stood up. He slowly made his way around the desk and then moved up behind Orion, who he now stood just as tall, only inches between them.

He watched the most influential wizard in Slytherin straighten his spine, his stance noticeably tense, and a smile curled up his lips. "Take off your shirt."

The wizard started to turn around.

"Ah ah, don't turn around. Your shirt. _Now_."

Orion let out a rough laugh, and he began to undo his white shirt. "I knew you'd be a kinky bastard," he said, sounding like he'd struck gold.

Tom blinked once, a humming in his chest ignored. "Now your trousers."

The shirtless wizard hummed lowly but then began to undo his slacks as instructed, toeing off his shoes before pushing them down and then stepping out of them until he stood in only a pair of silver boxers before him. "What about—"

Tom took a step closer, and the wizard silenced.

He let his breath fan out across the nape of the wizard's neck, and he heard him suck in an audibly sharp breath. His upper lip curled at the unwanted sound, goosebumps breaking out over the Black heir's entire body. "Close your eyes," he said more quietly, he wet his lips.

He waited for the wizard's chin to dip some tellingly, and then he lifted his wand, carefully, placing it by his right temple. " _Just relax_ ," he hissed, and then he began to twist the tip of his wand in a small clockwise direction.

The older wizard gasped as a silvery cloud-like wisp was pulled from him, Tom focusing on it intently, his lips twitching as he surveyed it first—grey eyes darkened like singed coal as he took it all in—then he focused more intensely; and it began to bend and fold, and knot before him, flashes of red flaring up at certain points only to burn out to a colorless black. Then he let it slip back into the wizard's mind.

Tom took a step back as he watched the wizard before him, swaying on his feet, in a dream-like trance, and then he swayed a little too far forward and landed face first on the desk. He turned and walked out of the room to the sound of the Black heir groaning unintelligibly.

Harry stood in the back of the classroom, that was slowly starting to dissolve, stunned, as he regained his own mental faculties once more. He'd obviously fallen into some kind of stored memory, but he didn't have the faintest how he was supposed to get out of it.

He took a small step back, pressing bare skin against cold, rough stones, when the floor in front of him began to disappear, not able to process what all he'd just seen. The tables and desks before him began to melt into a weird mess, Orion Black disappearing with a sharp _crack._ He looked over to the door, planning to jump for it, when it slowly began to flicker in and out of sight, and just when he'd really started to panic a hand grasped his shoulder firmly and tugged, hard.

 


	23. Chapter 23

Green eyes shot open with a sharp gasp, and Harry found himself looking up into dark grey orbs, a hand on his shoulder.

"Tom, I—" Harry said, and then his forehead pulsed angrily, stopping him at that, and his hand shot up to cup it. He felt warm liquid on his fingers immediately.

"You're bleeding..."

"Yeah, uh—" Harry felt the bed dip beside him, and blinked a few times, lowering his hand to stare numbly at a substantial amount of blood coating it. He vaguely noted when it began to trickle down the side of his face, and he nodded, feeling light-headed. "Yeah, I'm sorry," he said and started to stand, but the hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"For what? What happened to you?"

"I—" Harry felt fingertips gently touch to tacky skin just below where his scar was, barely noticing the book in his lap being removed, and then the pad of Tom's thumb brushed lightly over his upper eyelid and into his brow to wipe away the trailing liquid before it could get into his eye. He felt his lungs tighten at the touch, and he struggled to think. "Listen, I'm... really sorry, I didn't mean to see that," he said, trying to apologize again for invading the wizard's stored memory somehow without even meaning to. All he could remember was touching his hand to the page and then his head hurting.

"See what?" was asked softly in a more quiet voice, and fingertips began to palpate the skin just around his scar, creeping closer like they couldn't help themselves. "What did you see, Harry?" Tom asked, his smooth voice taking on a breathy quality, moving closer until his right knee bumped gently against the side of Harry's leg.

Harry closed his eyes, his head pulsing more solidly as fingers continued to edge his open scar carefully, back and forth, over and over. The tension in his chest grew, and he cleared his throat before answering roughly. "Your memory, of you and Black, that you had stored in your journal."

There was a pause.

"You saw... that?"

Harry nodded curtly, clenching his jaw, the action painful with his still aching head. He opened his eyes slowly when the wizard's touch disappeared. Tom was sitting beside him, the dark-haired wizard looking down at his upturned hand, studying fingertips that were painted in Harry's blood with an indescribable expression. He swallowed hard again as he continued to watch the taller wizard, who appeared almost frozen in place if not for his faintly rising and falling chest, and he fought the growing feeling in his own that made him want to lash out. Tom had never judged him when he'd needed someone to confide in, and he would return the favor despite not wanting to at the moment. "What did you do to him that night?" he asked tightly. "Did you mess with his thoughts?"

"I suppose, you could say that," Tom allowed, cautiously, not looking up, and he began to rub the pads of his thumb and index together as he mused over the question, noting the feel of Harry's drying blood on his skin. "It was more a _manipulation_ "—the wizard drawing out the word, lips pulling back to reveal the tips of white canines—"of a certain line of thoughts that I couldn't allow to remain, you see... in this world, sometimes manipulation is necessary to survive, Harry. Orion Black is not someone to make enemies of lightly, so I did what I had to."

"And that was your only option? Manipulating his thoughts?" Harry asked back heatedly, agitated by the wizard's response. "Or maybe manipulating _him_? Like this morning?"

Tom looked up at that, piercing grey eyes meeting fiery emerald straight on. "Yes, unless I gave him what he _wanted_ ," he said, his upper lip curling, stormy grey eyes darkening, "He was not going to leave me alone, I saw it."

Harry puzzled, pitch-black brows pulling down and together some at the wizard's words. "You saw it...?"

The tall wizard nodded slowly. "I was not lying when I said I am an adept Legilimens. I find strong intent can be just as vivid in the mind as a memory, if not more so at times. Some people get so caught up in what they want, it becomes more important than what is real." Tom shifted closer on the bed then, his stained hand lifting, as he met green eyes up close, the swirling emotion behind them drawing him in, and his fingers touched to tacky skin again. "Why are you bleeding," he murmured, "when did it start?"

"I don't know... I think my scar just does this sometimes..." Harry trailed off as wet fingers began to slide down his jaw, spreading his blood, and then he felt a slick thumb trailing across his lower lip. He struggled to focus. "Why didn't you tell me Orion was bothering you? I would've helped you."

"Would you have?" Tom smiled some, the expression off, grey eyes turning up to study the wizard's forehead. "I can see why you were a Gryffindor in another life," he said distantly.

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat when splayed fingers trailed down onto his neck before sliding around to cup the front of it with an unsteady grasp, feeling a sticky wet. "Tom... are you okay?"

The raven-haired Slytherin leaned down, his breaths sounding uncharacteristically shallow as they puffed against Harry's cheek. "You look _good_ in red, Harry," he hissed, then he pressed his mouth to Harry's before he could protest.

Harry felt the wizard's hand on his neck slide down to his bare chest, and when a tongue slid languidly across his lower lip, cleaning it, a surprised low noise escaped his throat, and fingernails skated down his stomach sharply.

"You touched my things," Tom said, pressing his cheek against Harry's blood-covered one as he whispered in his ear, his knuckles trailing back and forth over smooth, warm skin just above the wizard's pants line, Harry's soft panting growing with each pass, "Do you know how _angry_ that makes me, Harry? Do you have _any idea_?"

Harry nodded his head jerkily. "It's just, I was worried about you." A hand grabbed his side suddenly, and he gasped at the rough touch, his blood speeding up, and he bit down on his lower lip when the grip tightened painfully, his magic surging angrily, but he held it inside, not letting it overflow.

"I need you to leave."

Harry pulled back in surprise to find the wizard glaring down at him, with his blood drying on one side of his face and on his hand he was holding up like he didn't know what to do with it, and he noticed it was shaking ever so slightly. "Are you okay?"

"You should go _now_ ," Tom said from between clenched teeth, "you don't want to be around me like this, trust me."

Harry started to leave, but then he stopped. "Actually... I don't mind."

Tom's chin dipped, and the wizard let out a seething breath. "I might hurt you... I _want_ to hurt you right now, you realize that?"

Harry felt goosebumps run over his entire body at the coldly spoken words, but he stayed still. "I know." He watched the taller wizard carefully, who didn't respond, clearly struggling, and he felt a pang in his chest. "The memory, how do you store it that way?" he asked quietly, hoping to distract him some.

Tom smiled slowly at that, his jaw still clenched, grey eyes falling shut. "What do you _mean_?" he asked tightly.

Harry hesitated, the wizard almost appearing in pain, clearly getting more upset by his line of conversation, but then he persisted. "So that I saw it from your eyes, it felt like I was you," he said more quietly, remembering the anger and coldness he'd felt in the wizard's mind, and feeling a little guilty that he'd been pleased with the fact that Tom hadn't been attracted to the very handsome seventh year at all.

"I didn't," Tom said after a moment's pause, sounding suddenly different. The tall wizard looked up, grey eyes scrutinizing and with a sudden focused intensity. "That's how you experienced it, through me?"

Harry nodded, just slightly. "Yeah."

The wizard said nothing. He reached out, and his lip twitched when his hand made contact with the side of Harry's face once more, the touch barely there, unsure almost. "Your scar, Harry... I think there's something off about it, can I look at it?"

Harry grimaced when it seemed to pulse in protest at the question, the wizard's thumb hovering just in his upper vision. "Look at it?" he asked, hesitant.

Tom let out a quiet breath. "Yes, with my magic."

The wild-haired wizard felt his mind revolt, and he was suddenly fighting with buried memories that he couldn't access. He forced a slight nod. "Okay." He felt a strong swell of magic suddenly surrounding him, the effect almost overwhelming, and Tom lifted his wand, pointing at his forehead up close.

"Stay very still," he murmured, and when Harry nodded again he added, "Don't worry, I'll be careful."


	24. Chapter 24

Harry sucked in a sharp breath as the spot on his forehead began to take up an angry pulsing beat, his mind spinning. Tom's wandpoint held steadily pointed at his scar.

The wild-haired wizard held perfectly still, closing his eyes when the pain and disorientation grew, hoping it would help.

He heard a soft intake of air, and then, unexpectedly, he felt cold fingers touch to his open scar without permission. A jolt of something felt like it jumped from his scar to the wizard's fingertips, and a groan escaped his lips as his spinning mind began to spiral. Down.

A hand grasped his shoulder, stabilizing him as his chin dipped, and he swayed some.

"Do you need to lie down?"

"No." Harry shook his head, regretting it immediately. His throat began to tighten, and he forced open his eyes, squinting in discomfort as he tried to focus on the stationary wizard before him to keep from getting sick, his head a whirling mess.

"I'm fine," he said, and he took in a careful, deep breath and cleared his throat, staying as still as he could, the wizard's blurred face slowly clearing as he sat quietly, gathering himself. Tom was watching him intently, an unreadable expression guarding his features. "Did you find something?" he asked hoarsely.

The taller wizard slid his wand back up into his right sleeve after a moment's hesitation, and he held Harry's gaze for a few beats before saying in a perfectly calm voice: "I did."

Pitch-dark brows shot up into a matching messy fringe, and Harry blurted, "Well, what is it? Is it bad?"

Tom slid his tongue along the backs of his teeth for a long moment as he contemplated his response. Then he spoke up when Harry began to fidget. "It appears to be... a horcrux."

"A what...?" Harry asked, frowning, the word not setting off any alarms in his mostly hidden, but usually vocal, mind.

"A _horcrux_ , Harry," Tom said more quietly but also more slowly, enunciating perfectly, watching closely for any signs of recognition on the wizard's face.

Harry's frown deepened, and he rubbed gently at the back of his still throbbing head in agitation. "What's that? What's a horcrux?" he asked, straightening himself and grimacing when it increased the discomfort.

"It's, a piece of someone's soul," Tom said in a quiet manner.

Harry's hand fell, and he blinked a few times. "Someone's _soul_? But how?"

The taller wizard wet his lips, and then said, "It was put there, either on purpose, or accident, I can't tell..."

"Ah." Harry cleared his throat, trying to think over what he'd been told. "And how's it done? How does someone take a _piece_ of their soul and put it in... someone else?"

Tom's lips twitched, and he looked over to the bathroom door, Avery's shower still running. Then he met his waiting gaze, grey eyes filled with some expression Harry couldn't place. "I don't know, Harry, you see, that's a well guarded secret in the wizarding community."

"Oh..." Harry frowned again when he looked down at his bloodied hand. "Can you tell whose it is? Whose soul it is, that is?"

"I can. Well, I should say that I can recognize it. Souls have certain markers to them, and if you become familiar with one, it's possible to spot its imprint on certain spellwork, or even more easily in this situation, where an actual piece of it is there, _alive_ "—the wizard's voice grew suddenly softer, cautious—"If I were to tell you though, you couldn't tell _anyone_ , particularly not Professor Dumbledore, no matter what. The owner would be in _dire_ danger if ever found out... due to the sensitive nature of such magic. Could you keep that kind of secret?"

Harry found himself nodding as he looked up, waiting. He felt like he knew the answer somehow already, but he wanted to hear it as he stared into piercing grey eyes. "I swear, I won't tell anyone, it'll stay just between you and me."

Tom hesitated for only a second. He lowered his chin to look directly into apprehensive green orbs, his jaw flexing, making his high cheekbones even more defined, and then he said evenly in a very clear voice: "It's mine."

Harry took a moment, and then he nodded again, the movement more quiet; he was not alarmed, though he was sure he should be. A piece of Tom's soul was _inside_ him, or the future Tom's was at least; he wasn't exactly sure how that worked. "And what purpose does a horcrux serve?" he asked unsurely, a foreboding feeling shadowing his words as he resisted touching the scar on his forehead.

"I'm not exactly certain," Tom said back. He glanced over his shoulder when the shower stopped, and pulled his feet up onto the bed, Harry following suit. The tall wizard slid dark green curtains shut and looked to Harry imploringly. "Do you mind if I mute us?"

"No, it's fine," he said, with a shake of his head. He watched Tom flick his wand just as the bathroom door opened, and the curtains surrounding them were doused in a shimmering waterfall of magic before the tall wizard spoke up.

"Unfortunately," Tom said, slowly, seeming to pick his words carefully, "I don't know much about this type of magic, what I do know is limited to hearsay."

Harry frowned as he rubbed his stained palm on his pants' leg, feeling oddly distracted considering the topic. "From where?"

"From someone who owns a shop near Diagon Alley," the wizard said. "The shop is Borgin and Burkes... Does it ring a bell?"

Harry grimaced, and he nodded some, resisting again the urge to rub at his head. "Yeah, I think so. Do you think they could give us more information on it?"

"Perhaps. I could go there next Hogsmeade weekend and see, it'd be an easy apparition, and you could come as well if you want," Tom said, and then he looked down at the few inches of comforter separating them as the dorm outside went almost completely dark but for the candle mounted by Tom's bed, casting the two wizards in shadows as they sat facing each other inside his bed. "I do know... one thing though..."

Harry drew in a measured breath, Tom's hesitant tone only agitating him. "What's that?"

The taller wizard turned his attention back up, and he eyed Harry's jagged scar intensely before meeting his green eyes straight on. "I'll help you figure this out, you have my word."

Harry nodded slightly, his lungs tingling as he exhaled quietly. "My memories, they would help."

"Possibly."

Harry nodded again. "Can you try now, to see them?"

Tom shifted closer at that, his cool hands settling on either side of Harry's too warm neck. "You're tired. Tomorrow, in the Astronomy Tower."

"Yeah, okay," Harry conceded reluctantly. Then a thumb began to trace a small path along his neck just below his jaw, rubbing roughly over sticky skin, and he remembered he was covered in blood. "I should go clean up," he said, hesitant.

Tom smiled slowly, and he leaned in closer. "No need, I can get it for you," he husked, and then Harry felt a hand cup the back of his head, and before he knew it, a hot tongue was trailing widely up the side of his neck.

"Oh _shit_..." Harry's lungs tightened, and he took in a small breath and then another, fighting to exhale, his body heating up as the wizard worked deliberately, caressing overly sensitive skin with his tongue over and over. "Oh... that's, actually—that's ah..." He trailed off, his mind blanking.

Tom's lips grazed his earlobe. "What? You can tell me. You can tell me _anything_ , Harry. You and I are together, remember?"

"Yeah, maybe, uh, maybe just a charm instead?" Harry forced out around uneven breaths.

Something was whispered, and a cold, soothing feeling ran down the side of his face and then neck and lastly along stained fingertips, his skin no longer feeling uncomfortable.

"Thanks," he said, and then he watched with shallow breaths as Tom's own face came clean, his perfect features once more pristine. He swallowed around a lump and then huffed a small breath, feeling surprisingly better, at least over one thing. "You're really good with wandless magic."

The tall wizard smiled back at him, clearly amused. "You find that impressive?"

Harry nodded, black brows furrowing some. "Yeah."

Tom blinked once, the curled expression on his lips staying put, and something flared to life in the wizard's dark grey eyes. "I could show you something much more impressive, if you'd like."

Harry rubbed at his right bicep, a sudden chill making him shiver. "Yeah, what's that?"

The tall wizard's gaze slid down to Harry's pajama pants. "You'd need warmer clothing."

Harry nodded faintly. "Okay, are we going somewhere?"

Tom's smile grew at that, and he looked back up; wired smoky eyes framed by pitch-dark locks met curious emerald orbs under a wild black fringe. "Yes, into the Forbidden Forest."


	25. Chapter 25

Harry adjusted the hood of his black sweatshirt so that it was protecting his neck more from the chilled night air and then shoved his hands back into trouser pockets, his right hand brushing the handle of his wand. He walked over damp grass, a rain storm having just passed, a dimly lit Hogwarts behind, shrinking with each step forward as the Forbidden Forest seemed to grow and darken before him.

"Have you ever been in there?"

"Hm?" Harry looked over, to see Tom with his wand out, his gaze straight ahead focused on the woods. "Oh, uh, I'm not sure," the wizard said, and then a howl rose distantly from inside the forest they were about to enter, and then another. The wizard found himself slowing his step.

"Don't worry," Tom said, a smile evident in his tone, "it's not a full moon, we'll be fine."

"I'm not scared," Harry said back, balking.

Tom hummed at that, giving a slight nod. "Good, you shouldn't be, you're far too powerful of a wizard to be."

Harry stumbled over his thoughts. "I'm sorry?"

"Your magic, there's a reason you still struggle with containing it," Tom said with an air of ease, moving closer as they came under the forest's canopy edge, the cloudy sky above being blotted out. Then he whispered an incantation, and a soft glowing green orb the size of a snitch was suddenly floating just in front of them. "It was the first thing I noticed about you when we met."

"The first thing?" Harry asked in surprise, glancing around the suspiciously quiet woods as they made their way deeper in, the view of Hogwarts behind them slowly but steadily becoming enveloped by the forest's mouth until it was no more.

"Yes, it was impossible to miss," Tom said. They walked in silence for a few beats, and then another low howl filled the air, seeming to come from all directions in the thick forest. The taller wizard looked down at him, grey eyes probing. "Can you feel it, bubbling under the surface, wanting to get out?"

Harry cleared his throat as he thought over the odd question. "I guess I can, at times," he admitted, feeling hesitant.

Tom said nothing in response, leaving them to the sound of their muted steps over dead leaves and the rain-softened flooring of the forest.

Harry glanced over his right shoulder when he heard a twig break, but he only saw trees and bushes. He pulled his hands from his pockets, bringing out his wand just in case, not feeling nearly as comfortable in the dark woods as Tom. "Do you come out here often?"

"It depends," the wizard responded quietly, and then he took a sudden sharp right off the rough path they'd been following until then, stepping between two tightly placed ancient pines, Harry having to follow behind him with his shoulder cocked to the side to fit through without catching gnarled bark. Their tinted light rose to shine down on them. "Have you ever tried to focus it?"—the question asked casually enough—"Instead of just suppressing it, like you do when it gets unmanageable."

Harry narrowly eyed a large black spider easily the size of his hand, that appeared to be sleeping just a foot above his head on the tree trunk on his right, the shiny furs on its round body glistening green under their light. His grip tightened reflexively around his wand as he passed under it, ducking some. "What would I do with it?" he asked, distractedly. "Really, it just seems to make a mess when I lose control, it's not very useful."

Tom stopped in front of him all of a sudden, and Harry realized as he stepped out from the tight passage they were at the edge of a huge clearing in the middle of the forest, a portion of the sky above visible once more. There was a brook a few feet wide running down almost the center of it, bubbling softly, and the long, unkept grass around it was softly swaying in the pale moonlight, a few smaller, bare trees sparsely placed the only thing breaking up the movement.

The taller wizard looked down at him, turning to stand in front of him. "You could learn to harness it," he said, slowly, with a sudden gleam in his eyes, "use it do something others could only imagine." And then he stepped backwards and into the clearing.

Harry glanced around as he too moved into the open space with the wizard, not seeing any movement other than the water and grass that felt eerily alive. "Maybe..." he hedged as he moved even further into the clearing, relaxing some when nothing charged them. "What did you want to show me out here?"

Tom looked up at the sky, not seeming concerned over their safety. "You said you like to fly."

Harry nodded hesitantly. "I do... but I didn't bring a broom."

The taller wizard laughed, a breathy quality to it, sharp grey eyes still fixated on the sky above. "I like you Harry, you don't hide anything, do you?"

Harry ruffled at wild locks, something in his chest tingling at the words. His wand hand hung by his side, as he studied the tall, lean wizard, who was standing in his clothes from earlier: fitted black trousers and a white button-up. His porcelain skin looked an unearthly pale under the moonlight, his perfect features almost ghostly, the wizard appearing unaware as a chilling breeze whipped through his silky bluish-raven locks. He cleared his throat when it felt like there was something stuck in it. "Not well," he admitted.

Tom laughed again at that, the sound more warm. Then he looked down to offer out his left hand, peering down at him with an intent expression. "Do you trust me?"

Harry thought over the question only for a second before he was placing his hand in Tom's, enjoying the feel of the wizard's grip closing around his firmly. "Yeah, I do."

Tom smiled some at that, and then he pulled him forward a couple steps until his chest bumped against his gently, their lower bodies grazing; and he held him there. "I've never shown this to anyone. You'll be the first."

Harry found himself nodding faintly. "Okay," he forced out, trying to ignore the feelings suddenly racing through his veins as he looked up into tempestuous grey eyes. The hand holding his fell away.

"Wrap your arms around me," Tom said, his usually smooth voice rough with some emotion.

Harry draped his arms carefully over broad shoulders, grimacing some when the wizard's eyes slid shut and his jaw flexed. "Is this good?" he asked unsurely.

" _Tighter_ ," the tall wizard gritted out, and when Harry's arms tightened, his hands locking on opposite arms, Tom nodded tersely. Then Harry felt an increasingly familiar magic begin to fill the cool air around him, vibrating, heating it and pressing against him—feeling almost like ribbons as it began to slide over his skin, wrapping around him—and the odd sensation like he was turning to smoke overtook him. He tightened his grip around the wizard more.

"Just remember to _breathe, Harry_ ," was whispered into his ear before he felt an overwhelming whooshing take over all of his senses, and then he was _weightless_.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath as they shot up into the air, the scenery around him a blur of muddy green and brown for only a second before it shifted to an expansive greyish blue. Then he felt cold moisture surrounding him, everything hidden as they sped up, and then, without warning, a hidden starry night exploded above him, crystal clear.

Harry sucked in another deep breath, not able to make out his arms or body as he somehow held onto Tom as they flew just over dark clouds, the world looking like an unending scape of space with an impressive misty grey its flooring. He felt a disbelieving laugh shake him, and then suddenly they were dipping back down, headfirst, shooting through the layer of wet air.

Then they were diving towards a sea of dark green, and he laughed harder as they split through a canopy of leaves and began to spin and dip and twist through the tight forest at a neck-breaking speed, effortlessly avoiding limbs and bushes and startled animals he couldn't make out; his chest filling to the brim as excitement surged through his veins, the feeling more exhilarating than anything he'd ever experienced.

The wizard felt the air around him begin to suddenly _soften—_ and then his feet hit solid ground without warning, a steady hand gripping his side. He found himself staring up at Tom, with his arms still wrapped around his neck, an uncharacteristic grin spread across the tall wizard's striking features, his ebony hair messed, smoky eyes wired but apprehensive as they searched him for _something_ , all of it making him appear younger and somehow vulnerable.

"What did you thi—" Harry's lips crashed against Tom's.

 


	26. Chapter 26

The taller wizard responded, grasping Harry's jaw and deepening their kiss, his tongue sliding between parted lips, his other hand skating down the wizard's sweatshirt, feeling taut muscles beneath.

"That was fantastic," Harry pulled back to say with a disbelieving laugh, and then he met Tom's lips again as they began to curl up in response. "How did you learn that?"

Tom grabbed Harry's side and pulled him forward so their lower bodies pressed together, the low sound it elicited from the other wizard making his pulse quicken. "I had a lot of time over the summer," he answered, truthfully. He ignored the tension in his chest then as Harry began to place heated kisses on his neck, and he inclined his chin, staring up at the clouded sky, pointedly focusing on the good feelings coursing through his body. He wanted this, he did, he was allowing it—Fingers slid up into his hair some. He ground his teeth together—"Don't _touch me like that_."

Harry stopped, his hands dropping, and the wizard moved back, putting space between them. "Sorry," he said, short of breath, and he shook his head, green eyes swimming with confusion, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

The two wizards stood separate for a few beats, Tom not saying anything, his muscles refusing to relax.

"What did I do?" Harry asked, glancing around the space before looking back to the wizard. "I mean, to upset you? So I can avoid it next time..."

The tall wizard closed his eyes. "My neck... and my hair." The wizard swallowed hard, struggling. "My hair's the worst."

Harry nodded. "Okay," he said quietly. He looked around the open space then, and he cleared his throat, searching. "It's really nice here..." he tried. When he received no response his gaze settled on the bubbling brook just yards away for a few beats before he spoke up again. "Do you want to sit by the water with me?"

Tom dipped his chin in a stiff nod, and he walked some behind him until they were at the water's edge.

Harry settled down with a sigh, wrapping his arms around bent knees, some emotion niggling at his chest. A few blades of soft grass poked the side of his hand when he shifted some, and he wrapped them a few times around his middle and index fingers, breaking them off, and then distracted himself with tearing them into neat little pieces as he gave the other wizard some time. He glanced over to Tom as he dropped the last shreds, the tall wizard appearing less tense. "Thanks for showing me that, I'm really impressed."

Tom smiled almost at that, his shoulders relaxing the slightest bit, the wizard not looking over, grey eyes intently watching the dark water move over and around small rocks. "I've always enjoyed using my magic, pushing it to its limits," he said quietly, his voice smooth, "even before I knew what it was, or before I knew what was or wasn't _accepted_ per se in the wizarding world."

Harry said nothing.

"Some people think that makes me... unpredictable... someone to be treated with suspicion, fear." He looked over to Harry, meeting his gaze levelly. "I appreciate you don't do that."

Harry took a moment to respond. "I wouldn't do that to a friend."

Tom's lips curled up at that, and the wizard tilted his head. "Is that what you think we are, Harry? Friends?"

The wild-haired wizard blinked a few times. "Well, yeah... amongst other things."

Tom laughed at that, and Harry found himself grinning as he rubbed his palms together to heat them. A wolf howled again, the sound suspiciously close, and the passing thought that, yes, he had been in the forbidden forest crossed the wizard's not complete mind.

"Are you cold?" the taller wizard asked.

Harry nodded. "A bit."

Tom stood up. "Let's go back."

Harry pushed up, and he found himself walking beside Tom, already regretting the moment they would separate.

* * *

Their dorm was pitch-black as they stepped in, Harry first, then Tom. The former started for where he knew his bed to be when he felt a hand on his arm from behind.

"Do you want to stay with me tonight?" was whispered against his ear.

Harry nodded, until he realized. "Yeah, okay," he whispered back. He felt the hand on his arm slip down to his wrist, encircling it, and he followed blindly. There was the sound of curtains sliding back and then he was climbing onto the wizard's bed, careful to not bump into him.

Curtains were pulled back shut, and then a familiar glimmer slid down around them, encompassing them in a protected silence. Then there was complete darkness once more.

A hand cupped Harry's face, and the bed creaked, dipping just in front of him. There were soft breaths on his lips, a thumb caressing his jaw. "I want to touch you. Do you mind?"

Harry shook his head jerkily. "No, not at all," he said, his chest rushing with a familiar feeling in the wizard's close presence. Soft, cool lips pressed to his, and he placed his hands carefully on Tom's chest, his right thumb brushing over a button.

"You can take it off," was said back in a tight voice, and then, "Can I take off yours, Harry?"

"Yeah." Harry lifted his hands to let his sweatshirt and the shirt beneath be pulled up and off, and then he began to carefully undo Tom's shirt, button by button, his heart taking up an uneven beat inside his chest as fingers slid down his exposed torso only to dip inside the front of his trousers, grazing sensitive skin.

"And these?" Fingers tugged at his slacks.

"Please," Harry forced out as he guided the wizard's shirt open and over his shoulders cautiously. Fingers deftly undid his slacks, and then skated over the front of his boxers teasingly, and a groan escaped his lips. "Tom..."

"Yes, Harry?" was asked softly.

"I want to be close to you."

There was a pause, then Harry felt the bed shifting. "Take off all your clothes," was said quietly, with a sudden tension edging the words.

Harry slid down his boxers and then kicked them off along with his slacks, not paying attention to where they landed. "Okay, now what?" he said, his low voice breathy, finding it hard to breathe, and then he felt a larger body move up close; and lips found his once more, cool skin meeting hot, the air around them feeling like it was heating up.

"I want you, Harry," was hissed against the wizard's chin, " _Completely_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is all I've got written up that is post-worthy. Please leave your thoughts to help with my next chapter, which will be quite the bitch to write, but hopefully very rewarding. ;) hah. Thanks for reading guys and please know, I am well aware the plot has been sidetracked for the moment... and I have no shame.


	27. Chapter 27

"You want me?" Harry asked, his words rough but unsure. He couldn't make out Tom's features as the taller wizard hovered just in front of him, but he could _feel_ him.

His lungs filled and evacuated like he was running at a complete stand still as they shared air, green eyes cast in complete darkness struggling to find light; then, as if Tom could read his mind, or perhaps wanted the same thing, a small green orb formed just above their matching mops of raven hair.

The wild-haired wizard watched, his exposed chest heaving lightly, as it creeped up, towards the upper edge of Tom's curtains and then past them until it was exposing bleached slate stones supported by antiquated and darkly stained beams of wood.

Harry swallowed softly, his throat resisting the action, and he looked down to finally peer into fierce grey eyes that were tinted with a soft colored-hue that were only a shadow of his own vibrant green, and something inside his chest swelled when Tom hummed a ' _yes_ '. But he hesitated. "In what"—he pressed lips together hard, steeling himself—"in what way?"

A cool, open palm began to slide carefully up and down Harry's left side, giving his hip an increasingly insistent squeeze and tug forward when it would reach it so that their lower bodies would brush each time.

Harry muffled a low groan at the pulsing contact, silky skin sliding up against equally silky skin, and his heartbeat began to whoosh inside his ears as he held back.

Tom leaned in, his lips brushing Harry's cheekbone. "I want to be _inside_ you," was whispered, the words tickling against his jaw and sneaking into his ear, dripping with some perfervid emotion he couldn't even begin to fathom. "I want to join with you... to make you mine. Will you let me, Harry?"

Harry hesitated for only a second, Tom's open hand sliding around cautiously to trail two fingertips down his exposed back, his touch somehow more chilling than the air on his prickling skin.

He felt fingers cease in their wandering at the small area of his lower back where it dipped in just above his hips, and he sucked in a slow, shuddering breath as his skin seemed to heat under the light hovering touch. "Yes, but I — I don't think I've done that before." His voice rough.

Tom's chest hummed, the feeling resonating in Harry's thoughts, and his hand drifted down further. Harry audibly gasped when a single finger found sensitive skin, and the tall wizard circled gently, his lips twitching as he pressed his upper body fully against Harry's; and he dipped his chin, hovering over the wizard's bare shoulder as he slid upper teeth unforgivingly over his own lower lip, struggling to stay grounded. "I'll take it very... slow," he said, his words coming out constrained, "...I promise."

Harry stumbled over his thoughts, his body's signals too loud to think clearly. He pressed back reflexively against rubbing fingers some, increasing the pressure and making his eyes want to roll back. "I want this, I—I do, I'm just nervous," he said roughly.

"I should tell you then"—Tom's words suddenly brushing hot against his lower lip, and another set of fingertips began to trace some pattern on the front of his neck just above his collarbone, grey eyes watching in fascination—"I'll be slow... but I might... _hurt_ you."

Harry sucked in a silent breath some then as fingers splayed out evenly across the front of his neck, not putting any pressure on his throat... only bracing. "Why, why would you do that?" he asked, searching suddenly narrowed grey eyes for an answer, his pulse speeding up unevenly. A dry finger pushed inside him unexpectedly, causing the air in his lungs to jerk from his chest in a violent protest, his back arching, and he found himself pressing more firmly against the taller wizard's chest.

Tom slid his finger back out only to breathe, "Because sometimes I like it," and then he pressed a slick finger in, enjoying the surprised sound it drew from the wizard, and he nudged in another, Harry gasping more sharply at the wider intrusion into the tight space. Hands latched onto his sides in response just below his ribs, and Tom flexed his grip around the wizard's neck, elastic, all his muscles taut.

He leaned down, breathing deeply against gasping lips, the sound of rough shallow puffs against his mouth making him light-headed, and eyelids dipped down over stormy orbs. He gritted his teeth, fighting it. "There's something _wrong_ with me, Harry."

Harry groaned, the sound low and agitated, but he fought to keep his head. He felt the hold around his throat tighten even more, slowly cutting off his airway, and fingers sliding in and out of him stopped to spread apart. " _Tom_..." he said, hoarsely, struggling to breathe, and his magic began to pulse despite his efforts. "You need to calm down."

The tall wizard gritted his teeth even harder, excitement clawing at his thoughts as he felt Harry's magical aura flex angrily against his own, pressing. "So much power. You have _so much power_ ," he hissed, "what are you going to do with it?" Then he twisted his wrist to find a certain spot to stab inside the wizard.

Harry began to pant with each punishing thrust inside him that made him want to finish somehow, the painful grip around his neck keeping him from being able to. "Tom, please..." His magic surged protectively.

"Yes. Just let it take over. Don't fight it." Tom's eyes slid shut as he felt Harry's magic begin to encompass him, and he felt his own respond, their auras mixing and mingling in an angry swarm, building. He squeezed even harder, and it felt like the wizard's magic turned electric, deadly, and then grey eyes opened with a sudden awareness in the dark.

He let go. His hand dropped.

Harry coughed and cursed.

Tom blinked a few times, and then he leaned in and pressed his lips to Harry's cheek, gently, apologetically. He tasted tears.

"I'm sorry, Harry," he whispered, and he pressed his lips to his cheek again, then down to his neck, kissing skin that made the wizard flinch away and that felt hot to his lips. "I'm so sorry," he persisted, and he pulled Harry closer, carefully sitting down on his bed and guiding the wizard onto his lap, kissing injured skin over and over as he slid his fingers out.

Harry said nothing. He sat on the wizard's lap, his knees straddling his legs, lips were caressing fiery skin, and it hurt to breathe, his lungs forcing out shuddering breaths.

"I didn't mean to," was said quietly against his collarbone. "Do you want to stop?"

Harry didn't respond at first. He blinked a few times, hands sliding gently up and down his heaving sides, the touch without any malice, almost soothing, and then he shook his head. "No, no I'm fine." Arms wrapped around him, and then Harry was being lifted, and he was on his back atop wrinkled, silky sheets.

There was a larger body overtop him, legs interlacing with his, a cool stomach pressing to his, a hand gently cupping the back of his neck, and lips found his. He opened his mouth, letting the wizard's tongue invade his space.

"Harry," was said against his mouth, "I think I might need you," and then the wizard's lower body lifted some; and when it lowered back, there was something hot and blunt pressing between his legs.

Harry tried to think, but then he felt it grow slick and then press more insistent, and he bit down on his entire lower lip, pain bordering with euphoria, and he wanted more—and there was something pressing too at his conscious thoughts as he looked up into deep grey orbs, fighting viciously to get to him—"You can have me, Tom," he said stubbornly.

Then there was pain and pressure, so much _pain_ , and he was _drowning_ in it.

"It's okay, it's okay, Harry," was whispered breathily against his ear, a hand caressing his cheek as Tom struggled to keep his lower body frozen. "Don't fight it, it'll only make it worse. Just relax."

Harry let out a low pained noise, clenching his eyes shut, but he nodded jerkily. "I'm trying, but it _hurts_."

"I know," Tom said back, the words so quiet they were barely heard. He waited, still not moving. Harry's fingertips grazed his hip bones as the wizard pressed his head back into his pillow, arching his neck, and then he felt the wizard clench all around him, too tight. He drew in a steadying breath. "I'm going to move, it'll help," he said to which green eyes popped open.

Tom leaned down, planting a hand on either side of wild black locks, and he met emerald eyes up close. Then he began to rock his lower body up against the wizard without pulling out, and he rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek as he worked. Pained grunts slowly shifted to unsure ones, and he carefully began to slide out and press back in smoothly. He angled his hips up, and then Harry gasped and wrapped his legs around him. " _Tom_."

The tall wizard sped up his pace, the air in his lungs expanding, thoughts floating, and he dipped down, inhaling jagged breaths from parted lips, the used up air keeping him grounded.

Silky raven locks intermingled with wild pitch-black, and Tom continued to move, the wizard beneath him drawing him in over and over, hands digging into his sides but feeling good, the air tingling over his back like it was _alive_. He'd never felt anything like it before. "There's a reason you have a piece of my soul inside you," he said.

Harry groaned, and he shook his head. "Not right now."

"You're important to me," Tom persisted. "I don't know how, but you are. I can feel it."


	28. Chapter 28

Dark silvered eyes gazed out on the approaching storm. Towering clouds, blackened, blotted out the sun, approaching a cliff that stood proud and stark against a churning sea. The dark, foaming waters below pulled back before rushing forward in a concerted effort, crashing against the wall, spraying high up into the air.

Tom stood, staring out as a flash of the memory of two people he'd brought there snuck through, causing lips to twitch. The tall wizard took a stiff step back and then another, moving further into the mouth of the cave he knew well, pushing away the unwanted memory. He turned away from the outside as lightning crackled angrily, lighting the skyscape behind him and his back in a blinding flash. He continued on, into an engulfing darkness, a certain object inside his pocket humming with a knowledge of what he was about to do. He didn't need to keep it on him anymore.

A pale hand reached out, skating along cold, sharp rock, and slate eyes closed as the raven-haired Slytherin moved deeper and deeper, the storm outside growing with each step, and he focused on keeping his mind clear of all distractions. He breathed in deeply, the wet, salty air filling his lungs, and thunder rumbled against his fingertips. He pressed his entire hand firmly against the cave wall, still moving, and a few steps later he felt it slice into his palm.

Lips tugged up unseen, and the wizard whispered a spell.

* * *

Harry woke slowly to the muted rolling sound of thunder. Sheets were twisted uncomfortably around his torso, and he fumbled for the duvet wrapped around his legs, his skin chilled. He mumbled a groan as he situated his bedding, and then he rolled over onto his side, an unknown familiar scent of soap and something cold and indescribable filling his senses with his face half pressed into a pillow, and he breathed out more easily. Fingers searched blindly for another body but only found warm sheets.

The Slytherin's skin pinched around closed eyes stubbornly, and he grunted softly under his breath as his still sleep-laden mind cautiously remembered where he was, and what all had happened just hours before... Flashes of porcelain skin, pain, pleasure, Tom over him, moving; intense stormy eyes fixated solely on him, fervently whispered words that had _slipped_ into his ear and snuck into his thoughts unbidden, wrapping themselves around them like a web—

"Still sleeping?"

Green eyes popped open, and Harry rolled onto his back suddenly wide awake, to see Tom's drapes still closed.

He inhaled silently, finding himself oddly short of breath. "Uh... Avery?" he said unsurely, his voice rough. He pushed himself up into a sitting position when he received no immediate response, green sheets pooling in his lap, his bare chest lifted and fell with a quiet yawn. He hadn't gotten much sleep.

The moment of silence stretched. "...Harry...?"

Harry grimaced, but he reached out and pulled back green curtains to see blue eyes staring down at him. "Hey, did I sleep in?" he asked, his left hand coming up to scrub at mussed midnight locks as his right reached out blindly to find his glasses on Tom's nightstand. He pushed them on distractedly, the wizard clearing in his vision as he blinked a few times.

The blond Slytherin didn't respond right away again, and Harry cleared his throat after a few uncomfortable moments, glancing around him and into their dorm to check for a certain wizard. Avery spoke up. "Yeah, no worries." There was another pause. "Ah, Harry..."

Emerald eyes flicked up.

"Yeah?" he asked, and then cleared his throat.

The wizard hesitated for a second, looking like he wanted to say something. "Where's Tom, do you know?"

Harry pressed his lips together as he held back another grimace. "No, I just woke up," he said, and he glanced down in distraction at the duvet searching for his clothes, realizing he was only in his boxers. "Maybe he's in the library," he offered as he reached up to scratch at his neck, stopping and wincing when it hurt.

"Do you want me to heal some of those?" was asked quietly.

Harry looked back up, surprised, and he felt heat flood his chest and creep upward as he realized what his neck probably looked like. He resisted reaching up and covering it, because the wizard had already seen it. He nodded reluctantly, anger flaring in his chest; he needed to talk to Tom. "Yeah, would you?"

The blond Slytherin sat down on the edge of Tom's bed, his blue eyes piercing as they studied Harry's neck. "I'd heal them all, but..."

Harry clenched his jaw a few times, because he knew what the wizard was going to say, something along the lines of not wanting to upset Tom. He scrubbed at his hair roughly, feeling even more unsettled. "No, I understand, thanks." He sat quietly, letting the wizard tilt his chin first to the left then the right as he silently worked on his bruised neck.

"I healed the most noticeable ones that your shirt won't be able to cover, and then I put a superficial numbing charm on the ones I left and a faint glamor," the wizard said, lowering his wand to his lap.

"Thanks Avery," Harry said, touching his neck carefully and finding it feeling normal once more. He gave the wizard a tight smile, feeling incredibly uncomfortable.

"No problem." There was a heavy pause. "You okay, Harry?"

Harry nodded tersely, and he looked up when the wizard didn't respond, meeting a concerned gaze. "Yeah, I'm fine. Really. Thanks for the charms, it feels a lot better."

"No problem, I figured it'd be best what with Dumbledore wanting to meet with you after breakfast."

Green eyes slid shut. " _Shit_ ," Harry cursed, having forgotten about the appointment. He heard a soft laugh and glanced at his dormmate out of the corner of his vision. "Does he always meet with new students this often?"

Avery shot him a crooked grin. "We don't get new students, Harry, just you."

The wizard nodded at that reluctantly, sighing, and he pushed sheets off his lap, climbing out of Tom's bed in only his boxers, still not sure where his clothes were. He'd need to shower and grab something to eat. He wondered where Tom had gone to so early. He'd seemed unsettled the night before, more so than usual, and he'd wanted to talk—

"So you and Tom then?"

The seemingly benign question stopped the dark-haired wizard mid-step and mid-thought. He turned back slowly. He eyed his dormmate carefully. "I wouldn't say that..."

Avery stood up, his expression unreadable. "Why not? I think Tom would, no one's ever stayed in his bed, you know?"

Pitch-dark brows lifted as far as they could. "No one...?"

Avery shook his head slowly, trailing the tip of his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. "No. Tom's never shown interest in anyone at school... until you."

"Hm." Harry cleared his throat, frowning. "I see."

"You like him?" The words not really feeling like a question.

Green eyes flicked up, the wizard not realizing he'd been staring at the floor. "I think so," he hedged, not sure how to explain his feelings toward the wizard or if he wanted to for that matter. "I mean... he's really different, you know? Even without my memories, I can tell he's not like what I'm used to, but I like to be around him, and sometimes—he just feels _different_ , like he's two people somehow."

The blond nodded faintly at that, looking unconvinced. "I'll have to take your word on that, I've only met the one Tom."

Harry said nothing.

"I can wait for you for breakfast," the blond offered, walking casually over to his own bed. "If you'd like."

Harry hesitated for a second as he watched his dormmate lift his bag off his shoulder and place it atop his bed. "Yeah sure, what about Lestrange, won't she be waiting in the common room?"

Avery gave a small shrug, his lips curling on one side. "I doubt it, we broke things off yesterday."

"Oh, sorry to hear that," Harry said, and when the blond merely shot him an amused look he fought a frown. "Yeah, okay, I'll be quick," he added before turning around and walking into the bathroom, his thoughts shifting back to a certain missing wizard as he turned on hot water.

 


	29. Chapter 29

Harry was sitting in a chair directly across from his transfiguration professor, who was flipping through a pile of parchment on his desk.

The grey-haired wizard's glasses were pinching the end of his nose, looking like they might fall off as he flipped yet another parchment over onto a smaller stack that Harry had surmised was the 'complete' pile.

The dark-haired Slytherin sighed silently, and he idly ruffled Fawkes's yellow under-chin feathers. The, at the moment juvenile, phoenix had moved from his stand by the window, to Dumbledore's desk, and then he'd vocalized softly with a pleading tilt of his head until Harry had moved his right arm off his armrest and had motioned subtly with his eyes at the open spot where the bird was now happily perched.

A quiet warbling vibrated against the wizard's fingertips when his thumb joined in to get the bird's cheek too just behind its impressive hooked beak, the noise almost sounding like a purr, and he felt his tensed shoulders start to relax some as the bird stretched its neck out and sideways, leaning into the touch.

"Fawkes has missed you."

Harry glanced up, slightly surprised to find the older wizard watching them interact over clasped hands. He cleared his throat and sat more upright, his hand falling away from the bird as he met uncomfortably piercing blue eyes.

"Do you know phoenix are regarded as quite the unusual creature even amongst the magical world?" the wizard asked in a quiet way that had Harry wanting to shift in his seat more so than answer. "Many, myself included, consider them to be the wisest of all beings due to their ability to live countless lives and remember them all somehow, though to what degree... no one is certain." Harry shifted, his back teeth pressing together.

The transfiguration professor paused, his sharp gaze shifting to his familiar resting at Harry's side before he continued, his speech growing more distant in nature. "Past, present, and future hold no meaning to them, they live in all of them at once, the ultimate 'time traveller' if you'll pardon the term, making their decisions based on everything that has happened, and that which has yet to happen." Sky blue eyes slowly turned back up, meeting agitated emerald orbs. "How have you been feeling, Harry? Any better?"

Pitch-dark brows furrowed, and the wizard ignored Fawkes as he shifted closer to him, resting against his upper arm. "Sir? I've not been sick," he said unsurely.

"No?" Grey brows lifted quizzically. "No recent fainting spells?"

Harry shook his head. "No, Sir."

The old wizard sat silent for a few beats, the silence stretching between them. He let out a barely audible sigh from his nostrils when Harry offered nothing further. "That's good to hear," he said with a faint smile, "and your classes, how are they going?"

Harry blinked a few times, petting Fawkes idly once more as he gently nudged him away from his collar, the bird trying to pull it away from his neck with the tip of his beak for some reason. "Well, I think they're going well. Avery and Tom have been helping me."

The transfiguration professor nodded. "And how do you find Slytherin? Any issues with which might I be of help?"

Harry didn't answer right away, his jaw muscles tensing, the wizard feeling suddenly on edge at the new direction of questions. He didn't want to talk about Tom at that moment, particularly not with the older wizard, and he knew it was likely with the sudden shifting in their conversation.

He cleared his throat silently, straightening in his seat, some feeling puffing in his chest. He'd slowly come to realize over their countless meetings and probing questions that the obvious distrust Tom harbored towards Dumbledore was _oddly_ reciprocated, and he didn't know what to make of it; he didn't like it though.

He gently nudged Fawkes away from his collar again, feeling agitated. "No, everyone's been fine, thank you though," he said, polite, but short.

"And your memories?" the professor pressed, his gaze flicking curiously to his familiar.

"Still missing," Harry said somewhat shortly, wanting to leave. He cleared his throat again. "I should probably go, Professor, or I'll be late for class." He waited. "Professor...?"

"Hm?" Dumbledore looked at him, his expression unusually distant, Harry already starting to stand up to avoid anymore of the phoenix's pointy beak. "Oh yes, class, wouldn't want to make you late."

Harry nodded tensely at that, and then he felt an unexpected twinge of guilt to round out the unpleasant emotions distracting him as he looked down at the bearded wizard dressed in twinkling purple robes, something in his demeanor making him speak up again. "Is something wrong, Professor? Is there something you need help with?"

Twinkling blue eyes lifted back up. Dumbledore broke into a gentle smile, and Harry found himself returning the sentiment to a smaller degree, a conflicting warmth kindling in his chest that felt familiar and safe.

"No, Harry, everything is fine," the wizard said, "you really should go to class though before Horace sends his patronus to berate me for keeping you so long. I'm sure there's a dragon tongue with your name on it."

Harry huffed a breath at that, relief flooding him, and his smile grew some. "Yes, Professor, I'll make sure to hurry." He turned away, glad to be leaving the wizard's office.

"Oh and Harry."

Harry turned, black brows lifted, his hand already on the door's handle. "Yes, Professor?"

"If you wouldn't mind stopping by Friday morning, same time?"

Harry pressed his lips together. "Yes, Professor," he said, more succinct, and then turned and left.

* * *

A giant, shimmering patronus in the shape of a phoenix flew through the east wall on the second floor of the Hog's Head pub.

It landed silently in the center of a private room, its not solid form hovering just centimeters over worn, creaky floorboards, gaining the attention of the room's single inhabitant.

It ruffled its feathers, a wispy fluttering filling the space before it opened its beak to speak. "I've reconsidered your request. Friday morning, Aberforth will show you the way."

The wizard took a surprised step forward, and the translucent Phoenix opened its wings and lifted off, flying back out of the room in the exact same spot through which it came.

* * *

Harry scrubbed at wild black locks as he stood just outside his potions class, the corridor completely empty. He hesitated only a second before pulling the door open and stepping in. Odd smells assaulted his senses, all cauldrons already bubbling away. The cool air of the dungeons was marked with pockets of steam as he quietly made his way towards the table to his right and further back. Slughorn was thankfully near the front, turned away and talking to a russet-haired Ravenclaw wizard whose name he couldn't place at that moment.

He dipped his head as he pulled his strap off over it, and he placed the bag on the stone floor beneath his table against one of its solid wooden legs before chancing a glance at his partner.

Tom was crushing something red in a white mortar, which was encased in a small block of ice, black silky bangs hiding the tall wizard's grey eyes as he worked.

Harry hesitated before leaning back down to snatch his potions book he'd forgotten. He found himself eye-to-eye with Nagini, the snake resting against the side of his bag and staring at him expectantly. "Do you want in?" he asked in a whisper, ignoring the tension in his chest and sudden racing pulse at simply seeing Tom after their night.

"Ye _s_ , Tom didn't bring hi _s_ today, it' _s_ _cold_ ," the snake hissed back sluggishly, drawing Harry back from his thoughts.

Dark brows furrowed, and Harry nodded as he opened the flap, pulling out his potions text first and then quickly situating his sweater overtop his other books for the wizard's familiar. He pulled his wand out and cast a silent warming charm on it, and he smiled some when she appeared to sigh in appreciation before slipping into his bag and curling into a tight ball. "Goodnight," he said quietly before closing it back. He stood up once more, setting his wand on the table, and he flipped open his book.

"No need, Harry, I've almost finished."

Harry's hand froze, his breath catching in his chest at the silky smooth voice he'd heard last in the middle of the night and under very different circumstances. He looked over. "Oh... sorry. I had to meet with Professor Dumbledore after breakfast."

The taller wizard said nothing, grinding the red powder more.

Harry shut his book and looked around the unusually quiet class, everyone else's tables littered with numerous potion items, wizards and witches in red and green appearing similarly frazzled as they poured over their texts instead of working. He shifted a step closer. "Did you get here early? Is that where you went to this morning?"

"No." Tom set down his pestle, and he lifted the stone bowl from its icy cradle, holding it over their bubbling cauldron as he waited for something. Harry shifted even closer to glance in at the noxious-looking potion unsurely and then at the bowl Tom was holding, noting the red powder slowly taking on a wet, sticky look.

"Frozen newt blood," was said in a suddenly private tone in his ear, tickling it, "crushing it before melting is crucial for the reaction to take completely... We wouldn't want to kill anyone." Harry nodded faintly, and then he felt Tom's arm and side brush up against his, heat blooming from the many spots of contact, and then the tall wizard tipped the bowl.

A silky ribbon of crimson liquid _slipped_ into their black potion, disappearing, and the bubbles rising began to take on a deep, bluish silvery hue, slowly taking over the color with each pop, lightening it the slightest bit; and a hint of warm pumpkin scent wafted up. "It's neutralized, we've finished."

"Well what do we have _here_?" Slughorn's voice boomed excitedly without warning. Harry took a small step away from Tom, glancing up to see the portly professor across their table, leaning over as he examined their potion, his hands happily clasped behind his back. "Excellent work, Tom. Harry. And it smells of"—he inhaled deeply—" _pineapples_? My! How heavenly! I could almost eat it... how did you manage that?"

"A happy coincidence, Professor," Tom said politely with the hint of a smile, and when their potions professor seemed puzzled, leaning down further, his face only inches from the boiling surface, to draw in an even deeper breath of the liquid the tall Slytherin's lips curled up furtively.

The heavyset wizard stood up after a few more deep breaths, his face flushed, looking somewhat flustered, blinking rapidly. "Most happy indeed. _Tremendous_ work, boys, not only did you finish before anyone else has even started, but your neutralized product has a most... addictive aroma to it," he said, and then he cleared his throat before giving his sizable head a solid shake. He looked between the two raven-haired Slytherins with a loud sniff. "You two will be coming to my small get together tomorrow night, won't you?"

Harry frowned in puzzlement, not sure what he was speaking of, but Tom dipped his chin and spoke up for them both. "Of course, Professor, we wouldn't miss it," he said silkily.

"Excellent," the wizard said, with a nod of his head, and his attention drifted back down to their bubbling cauldron. "And you'll have to share with me what exactly you did today too. I know you're hiding _something_ from me."

Tom shot back a closed-mouth smile. "You know me too well, Professor."

Harry's frown deepened as Slughorn laughed with obvious delight, something unsettling about the interaction the wizard couldn't quite place.

The potions professor turned away, speaking to the rest of the class, encouraging them to not be shy about trying their neutralizing recipes, garnering a less than enthusiastic response.

"Harry."

Harry started, looking up to see Tom just inches away and looking down at him, his expression indecipherable. "Yeah, Tom?"

The wizard studied him for a moment longer, grey eyes quiet. "I said we can leave now, are you ready?"

"Oh, uh, yeah sure," Harry said. He leaned down, grabbing his bag from underneath, careful not to jostle Nagini. He walked alongside the wizard, out of the class, feeling off but not sure why.

He followed beside his dormmate, not paying attention to where he was being led as his mind struggled. Why had the interaction bothered him so much? So Tom had been joking with Slughorn, toying with him even, nothing bad had happened. The potions professor had seemed elated afterward in fact. Or was it the professor's party invitation that had bothered him? He did feel a bit odd thinking of it again. Maybe it had nothing to do with Tom, maybe Dumbledore was finally getting to him after all their meetings. It seemed like the old wizard really wanted Harry to trust him, and he clearly was concerned about his and Tom's forming relationship. Or was he? Maybe it was all just paranoia, or maybe he was starting to remember something bad... like all his memories had been thus far.

He felt his chest clench at the thought. What was he doing here? Why was he forming a relationship with Tom, why had he slept with him? He was a time traveller, he had to go _back_ , back to his actual life that seemed to be full of tragedy, and deaths... possibly at his own hand.

Harry moved up a winding staircase as his mind continued to struggle to function. He felt like—

"All right, Harry?"

Harry stopped at the question, and he looked around, realizing where he was with Tom. They were in the astronomy tower.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he forced out, too many things on his mind. He moved towards the balcony's edge, stopping to look out on dark grounds far below, the storm from earlier hovering over the Forbidden Forest, like it was waiting for something.

He felt a cool hand on the side of his face, and then one on the other side, and he let the wizard pull him toward him and away from the edge, something inside his chest somersaulting wildly as he looked up into stormy grey eyes.

"Last night," the taller wizard said, his usually smooth voice roughened the slightest bit, and fingertips skated down, their touch whisper-light as they palpated glamored skin, Harry grimacing some as his breath caught. "I hurt you."

Harry closed his eyes. He nodded tightly, his chest filling with indignation, and he felt soft choppy breaths fan across his mouth, cooling damp skin.

"Sometimes I lose control, Harry," was breathed against his lower lip, "I try not to though." Harry felt hands soften their hold on his bruised neck even further, the touch barely perceivable, stroking abused skin, apologetic. "Everything stops making sense. I don't want to hurt you, I promise."

Torn emerald eyes opened, meeting troubled grey orbs up close, and something clenched painfully inside the wizard's chest. "Is there something I can do—to help you?" He waited as Tom stared down at him silently, the tall wizard's expression shifting, intensifying, the emotion behind it indiscernible.

"You want to help me?" Tom asked, his thumb sneaking beneath the wizard's white collar when Harry nodded tightly but adamantly. He wet his lips. "Don't leave then, stay in this time. With me," he said.

 


	30. Chapter 30

Harry struggled to answer, the wizard's words swirling in his head.

_ Stay with him _ .

To agree to the proposition... he didn't even know what, or who, he'd be agreeing to leave behind. Although, no, he did know _some_ of what he'd be leaving behind—pain, loss, tragedy—and he wouldn't be leaving his parents; they were dead.

He swallowed hard, his heart thumping defiantly inside his chest but to what end he wasn't sure.

The wind picked up outside as he struggled to think, and then the sky opened. A sudden downpour encircled the tower where they stood like an angry curtain blocking out everything but them.

Pale cool fingertips caressing his neck, Harry stared up into intensely dark grey eyes, and with each passing second, he found his resolve wavering, sinking. He'd be lying if he said he didn't want to say yes and just continue from where he was right now. He'd begun forming deeper relationships and started making a new life that even if it was incomplete was one that he found he wanted to keep.

"What about my memory," he said finally, grimacing internally at his self-centered reasoning, before pushing on, "when I get it back, you might change your mind, and what about Dumbledore, what if he won't allow it?"

Tom carefully removed his hands from Harry's neck, his lips twitching at the corners. "I can assure you," he said slowly, his words restrained, quiet, "what you've done _before_ will not affect my desire for you to stay, otherwise I would not have asked." Grey eyes flashed then, and Tom shifted closer until he was hovering just over slightly parted lips. "And we don't need to ask Dumbledore for permission. It's your life, Harry, no one else's, you're not some _pawn_ to be pushed around without any say. If you want to stay, I'll make sure it happens."

Harry felt the tall wizard's hand grasp his side gently over his shirt, rubbing slightly rough material over his skin and drawing him closer, and his eyelids dipped as soft breaths grazed his chin before lips pressed to the corner of his mouth.

"Do you want to stay with me?" Tom whispered.

Harry met red lips straight on when they pressed to his again, and he opened his mouth, letting the wizard's tongue slip in. He felt a strong arm wrap around his waist, and press their lower bodies together, and he groaned into Tom's mouth, the taste of the wizard dancing teasingly on his palette. He wanted it, he wanted to stay, he wanted to start over, and mostly he found... he wanted Tom.

He found himself nodding against the wizard's lips, his thoughts growing lighter, and then he was being guided backwards.

His lower back bumped into something, and he vaguely realized it was the banister as water began to pelt his shirt, soaking through starched cotton and running warm down his back, the roaring sound of the rain intensifying. He slid his hands up the wizard's broad chest, their kiss growing more heated as fingers began to work with a sudden recklessness on the buttons of his shirt. Harry felt open air on his stomach, and then nails. He sucked in a sharp breath, stealing it from the other wizard's lungs, his pulse racing as fingers one-by-one settled on the waist of his slacks, sneaking just beneath to tease sensitive skin.

"I've never wanted anyone like I want you," Tom said as he began to nip at Harry's lower lip with his teeth, the sound of his words breathy and bordering accusing. He began to undo the wizard's slacks, feeling a sudden foreign pressing ache inside his chest.

He took a step back, his chest rising and falling quietly but insistently as he undid his own slacks. He left them hanging on his hips as his gaze trailed over the wizard before him. Harry was standing, his black hair a wild mess, vibrant green eyes glazed, lips swollen and red, his tone torso coyly peeking out from his unbuttoned white shirt and loose green and silver tie, his lower body still hidden.

Tom said nothing as he took off his tie, and then he undid his shirt, pulling it off as he carefully watched the wizard observe his every movement. He moved forward once more, his hands shaking imperceptibly, the rain growing impossibly heavier, and he pressed his still clothed lower body up against Harry's, the pressure causing the pressing inside his chest to bloom. Leaning the wizard back against the banister, he pulled a low broken moan from him before he said quietly, "You can put your arms around my neck."

Harry nodded jerkily, his breathing shallow, and he slipped his arms around the wizard's flexed neck cautiously, remembering what he'd said before and not grabbing some of his silky hair. He felt hands snake inside his shirt and around his waist, the touch measured and deliberate, and then they slipped down, his heart skipping a beat as his slacks and pants were nudged down; and he was being lifted. He wrapped his legs around Tom's slim waist, and when the wizard stepped forward without warning he let out a startled noise, but his soaked back hit something solid; and air escaped him shakily as he leaned back against a barrier Tom had obviously conjured.

"Did I scare you, Harry?" was asked quietly against his neck, the wizard breathing warm puffs against his throat.

Harry ground his teeth together. " _No_ ," he lied. He felt hidden lips curl up, and he growled. "It's not _funny_."

"No," was said more quietly then, "you're right, death is definitely not funny."

Then splayed hands began to skate up his sides slowly, the touch somehow rough and gentle at the same time, and Harry dipped his chin, swapping thinned air with the wizard who he was temporarily taller than. Fingertips settled on his damp spine, pausing, the only sound their matching jolted breaths and the pounding rain, one set of fingertips began to slip down. Harry shivered.

"I want you like this," Tom whispered harshly, circling over the wizard's entrance, pressing more firmly with each pass, and legs tightened their grip over his hips, a silky, hard heat pressing insistently against his abs. "Can I?"

"Yeah, yeah okay," Harry said unevenly, and then he let out a huff of a breath, the air in his lungs heating up as he realized fully how they were situated. They were in the astronomy tower in the middle of the day, half dressed, and he was resting against a barrier that was not his own, the ground below too far away to even consider without feeling dizzy. He laughed again, the sound more breathy. He was losing it he was sure, and for some reason he didn't care. "Just don't drop me," he said.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Tom said, his low silky voice pulling Harry back completely to the moment and his knuckles that had _just_ begun to play at his entrance, pressing and stretching highly sensitized skin, but not breaching.

Harry bit back a groan, his body responding eagerly, and he felt his back press harder against the magical wall as Tom reached under him; then his slickened blunt tip pressed hot against his entrance, and he buried his face in the wizard's neck.

Tom gritted his teeth, heated air warming his neck, and he fought the sudden urge to drop his barrier. "Harry, _please_..."

Harry lifted his head immediately, and he looked down into unfathomably dark grey eyes. " _Sorry_ ," he said somewhat breathlessly, "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, I forgot."

Tom said nothing as he held his gaze. He lifted his right hand from the wizard, palm in and fingers splayed, and he curled his fingers in minutely, causing his barrier to reach out in tendrils to help hold some of the wizard's weight. "And if I forgot to keep up this wall? Would that be okay?" he asked softly. He waited, situating himself once more at the wizard's entrance, whose expression was predictably hardening, and when he received no response he pushed his hips up with a jerk.

" _Ah_ ," Harry gasped as the wizard slid in him too quickly, his body struggling to accommodate, and his head fell back instead when his back arched in pain. He bumped the barrier with the crown of his head, his breaths ragged as he glared up at a wall of pouring rain. "It was an _accident_." He defended himself, radiating pain egging him on.

"Maybe... but you remembered this time," was said in his ear, and Harry couldn't tell if his voice was breathy or if he was speaking parseltongue. "If you knew _why_ , you would _never_ do that again without my permission."

Harry clenched his eyes shut as the wizard began to move, not pulling out that far, the movements deep and hard and surprisingly fast, and he couldn't stop a low broken groan from spilling from his lips even as regret tinged the moment. He would figure out a way to help the wizard. " _I am sorry_ ," he insisted despite the overwhelming feelings beginning to take over his body and mind.

"I know," Tom breathed, and he pressed his lips to the wizard's jaw, "I believe you." Then he tilted his hips back some.

Harry gasped, the skin around closed emerald eyes wrinkling, and his fingers tingled as he flexed them resisting the urge to reach out again. Suddenly, a hand grasped his right hand and placed it back where it wanted to be, and then his left, and he tried to focus on breathing, his lungs spasming.

"I trust you, Harry," was whispered silkily against his cheek; then Harry felt what he thought was the wizard's nose trail gently back until lips whispered in his ear, "Should I?"

Harry nodded jerkily. "Yes, you can trust me. I promise"—hands grasped his sides tightly at that, and he found his grip on the back of the wizard's neck mimicking the tension as he looked down at stormy orbs fringed by unusually mussed ebony locks, the wizard moving in and out of him, his normally piercing gaze unfocused, giving him an almost vulnerable air as he continued to speed up—"I care about you." He _gasped_ when the wizard hit a spot that made his eyes roll back, and his muscles started to feel like putty as it was hit over and _over_ with a sudden unnerving accuracy. He felt his dick pulse, pressed tight between their stomachs, hardening impossibly, a telling drawing up down low. He'd never felt so close to someone he was sure—

" _I care about you too_."

* * *

Harry sat early Friday morning, narrowly eyeing an unknown wizard in the chair beside him as he waited for Dumbledore to return. He was in the professor's office seated in front of his desk alongside a blond wizard who appeared around maybe five years older or so, but he reminded him of someone he knew, or had known, or something...

Harry squinted and rubbed at his temple as a clock ticked unseen somewhere on a shelf high up behind him. The wizard at his side glanced over at him finally, having pointedly avoided the action until that point.

Something clenched inside the Slytherin's chest, and he found himself scowling back at the unknown but familiar person. His transfiguration professor had left almost immediately after his arrival, thirty some minutes prior, saying if 'someone else showed up' not to be alarmed. And here he'd sat with 'someone else' who'd indeed 'showed up,' and it agitated him beyond belief.

He didn't know him, but he _loathed_ him.

Harry's scowl deepened.

He didn't know what his professor was trying to do, but he was done with it.

"I should go," he said shortly, not really speaking to the wizard but he continued anyway as he started to stand, "Dumbledore is clearly busy, and it's time for class—"

"Harry, _wait_."

Harry froze, but then he straightened himself completely, not taking his seat again. His shoulders squared, and he found himself glaring down at the wizard, his voice setting off alarms in his not whole mind; and he had the sudden urge to hex his bollocks off.

"Do I know you?" he asked, his mind giving a resounding and unhappy 'yes' in response to his own question.

The wizard stood too, and Harry took a reflexive step towards him, his wand suddenly in hand.

" _Please_ ," the wizard said, holding his hands out in an appeasing gesture, his own wand resting visibly on his chair's armrest still. "I don't mean to alarm you, but I need to speak with you. Headmaster Dumbledore arranged this and—"

"Headmaster...?" Harry said, his grip tightening when the wizard seemed to realize his mistake, pulling his refined features in a grimace of sorts.

The dark-haired wizard took another step closer, his chest puffing as he met light grey orbs set a couple inches higher than his green that only fueled his agitation. "What's your name?"

The wizard let out a quiet breath, grey eyes falling shut—and then he said, "Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

The words echoed in the room, in his head, and something cracked. Harry felt it before he saw it: the floor. It had come up to meet him, cold and hard, and his head felt like it was trying to split open to pour all over it. He heard an alarmed voice, the words unintelligible as his mind continued in its effort to tear itself apart, then there were two, and he groaned.

"Just as I feared."

"Just let me have a few more minutes..."

"No. Matilda has to..."

Harry groaned again as flashes of too bright of pictures and sounds clashed together in his head. Too much. It was all _too much_.

_ Voldemort... The Chosen One... _

A giant of a man was floating in his head.

_ He's the one who gave you that scar... ... We don't say his name. _

_ Tom Riddle? Who's that? Is he your boyfriend? _

Harry gasped, green eyes flying open, and there were blinding lights and noxious scents, but they were layered and he couldn't make sense of any of it. He was restrained.

_ There was a man with scars, and he felt cold, the air was like ice, and it hurt to breathe. Windows froze. _

_ His parents were dead. It was Voldemort. Voldemort killed them. _

Everything began to _shake_.

"It's okay, Mr. Potter, it's okay, just take this, it'll help it stop... Yes, we want them to stop, don't you see what it's _doing_ to him? I'm disappointed in you, Alb...—"

The voices faded out, and then Harry tasted something metal residual on his tongue, and all the colors began to bleed together and words began to lose their shape in his mind.

_ Eyes. Dead, hateful eyes stared at him. Calling him. They wanted him to come to them. They wanted to use him for something. He needed him. Voldemort. There were so many dead. So many killed and lost. Voldemort. _

"What are you seeing, Harry?"

He couldn't see the person who owned the silky soft voice, the first substantial thing he'd sensed in what felt like ages. He leaned towards it though, wanting to touch it, and he felt something brush his blazing forehead in a soft graze where it _stung_ in a jagged line over his eyes.

_ He was shoved down onto cracked, dry earth. There were laughs. He was alone. He'd lost everything because of him. His parents. His godfather. Friends. Family. He was going to take everyone and everything from him he'd ever cared about. He had to kill him, he was the only one who could kill him. _

"Who did this to you?" was asked tightly.

_ A not quite solid wizard stood before him then. Pitch-dark hair, intense grey eyes, a warm smile turning cold, like someone had turned a switch, and ice shot through his veins. No no no no nonononono. _

_ Don't you see, Harry? I Am... Lord Voldemort. _

There was a harshly sucked in breath—and then everything went **completely black**.


	31. Chapter 31

Harry felt thin sheets underneath his fingertips; they bunched, warming. He was clenching his hands.

The air around him seemed to thicken, and he turned his head, grimacing. He smelled tea, chamomile. His head throbbed, and he felt his throat tighten, threatening.

He heard a low voice. "Harry."

Eyelids hiding emerald eyes began to twitch, and then they slowly opened, the world a blur but for a pair of close grey orbs.

"Tom," he said, hoarsely, and he thought he reached out, but his head pulsed, and his eyes clenched themselves back shut as a stabbing pain rippled out through his mind in protest.

A hand hovered; he felt a faint tremor where there should be dead air space, and he turned into it, resting his cheek into a cold, palm that seemed to relax when he only leaned more heavily into it, pliable. "You remember... me?" was asked, the quiet words sounding like a secret.

Harry nodded, stopping short; his face scrunched up in pain, and he clenched his eyes shut harder until the bordering skin was crinkling. He let out a tight breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Yeah, of course I do"—black brows furrowed, and then his mind gave its first tentative nudge—"what happened...?"

There was a sharp exhale that sounded a strange mixture of relief and anger, and Harry felt his mind nudge, again. He tried to open protesting eyes at the somehow unsettling sound.

The hand on his face slid down to rest over the side of his neck, the touch unusually light. "Just rest, Harry, it's the middle of the night. You fainted again. Avery and I found out just a few hours ago."

Harry breathed out slowly again, his chest refusing to relax, and he nodded faintly as the throbbing in his head began to ebb just enough for the wizard's words to register. "Right," he said more quietly. Another nudge. He swallowed hard, his chest feeling too full, and his jaw flexed.

"What do you remember?" was asked, pressing.

Harry frowned. "What?" He forced aching eyes open to find himself looking up once more at a leaned over Tom, and he blinked a few times, his vision blurry until a soft enchantment was hissed, and his vision cleared, everything appearing more vibrant and bigger and sharper.

"Is that better?" Tom asked, a tension in his voice.

Harry nodded just barely, whatever was pressing in his chest growing as he took in the tall wizard. "Yeah... you, uh... yeah, thanks," he stumbled over the words, finding himself studying a surprisingly disheveled Tom with crystal clear vision. The wizard's black hair looked like it'd had hands pulled through it way too many times, grey eyes were bloodshot with dark circles supporting them, and the wizard's skin looked more pale than he'd ever seen it.

Harry looked around when his jaw flexed: white curtains for walls, pale yellow lighting leaking under them. Another nudge. He pushed himself up a little to get a better look, the wizard seated by his side. He was in the infirmary. "Where's Avery?"

There was a soft, breathy exhale. Harry looked over to see Tom staring down at his own flexed hands. "Asleep. It's the middle of the night, remember, Harry?"

"Oh yeah..." Harry ruffled his hair anxiously, his head sore to the touch, and he stopped short. "What are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep." The wizard looked up. "What do you remember?"

Harry swallowed at the oddly redundant question. He clenched his eyes shut for a second, fighting down some odd rushing in his ears. "Nothing. I. No. I—I remember waiting in Dumbledore's office... and then"—he grimaced a little, his head throbbing at the effort, the other wizard tensing—"nothing. That's it."

He looked back up then. Tom shifted closer, his side brushing Harry's knee, and the wizard's hand touched the side of his neck, carefully, making his lungs tickle despite his exhaustion. "Should I remember something else?" he asked, unsure.

Tom shook his head, grey eyes distant, but the movement certain. "No, no I was just checking."

Harry found something prodding at his thoughts. "I had some weird dreams when I was out," he said and cleared his throat, his gaze dipping as he tried to remember them. "Something about..."

The bed shifted, and Tom was close. "Yes?"

Harry blinked rapidly, his mind shaking off the potion-induced sleep. The mediwitch had given him sleeping potion. "I... maybe it wasn't a dream..." He felt his lips begin to tingle, and he pushed through a thick fog he just noticed. "Wait," he said, his body tensing, alarm ringing in his voice before he knew why, "I remember some things."

"Harry, listen to me—"

Some feeling welled in his chest, and he was staring into unfathomably, stormy grey eyes. His heart skipped almost painfully. "It wasn't me, I'm not a murderer," he said without thinking, "I thought I was, but, I'm _not_ , I was trying to _stop_ one, everyone was, but there was a prophecy, and—and I was the only one who could do it..."

The tall Slytherin said nothing, his expression one Harry had never seen on him before. He looked scared almost. Harry found himself reaching out, and when his hand touched the wizard's chest a pounding heart met his palm. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," the wizard said, and he wet his lips, top first, then bottom. "Do you remember who it is? Who you're to stop?"

Harry felt fingers lace around his wrist as he searched his thoughts. "I." He blinked several times, turning his head. "It was... Volde-mort... Voldemort, that was his name." His chest clenched, and he didn't notice the tension on his wrist until it was uncomfortable. Dark brows furrowed as he met the wizard's gaze again.

"Harry, I saw some of your memories."

Harry sat silently, an unwanted feeling tingling in his chest.

Tom leaned in, Harry's arm bending to allow it, his hand forgotten on the wizard's chest, the wizard's heart beneath it speeding up more. Lips brushed his ear. "Let me in your mind," he said, "I need a closer look."

The wizard hesitated, his fingers curling in until his hand was a fist now on Tom's chest. "What did you see?"

Tom closed his eyes, unseen. "I can't tell you that, not until I'm certain." Then grey orbs opened once more as he leaned back to meet the wizard's emerald gaze straight on. "Will you let me look?"

"Okay," Harry found himself answering. "I trust you."

The tall Slytherin released his wrist and then his hands settled on either side of Harry's head. "Good. Now just relax, and let me in..."

Harry breathed out unevenly. "Okay." The wizard let his eyes fall shut, and he tried to clear his mind that was suddenly scrambling.

"Just _relax_ , Harry," was whispered.


	32. Chapter 32

He'd let it go too long. So many chances he'd had, and he'd waited. Harry had offered over and over to let him. Why had he postponed?

He flexed his jaw, clearing distracting thoughts as he maneuvered through the wizard's mending mind, slipping past current thoughts and memories, careful not to touch them, searching, further back.

He focused momentarily on their surroundings, checking the privacy wards he'd put around the infirmary bed where they sat. He didn't need anyone to show up for this. It should even keep Dumbledore away for enough time to do what he needed.

Tom's jaw clenched, Harry's hand wrinkling his shirt as it shifted. Harry. Mistakes had been made. He knew that, but—all conflicting thoughts stopped. The wizard paused, hovered over a certain memory, glimpses of what he'd seen flashing in a stormy cloud. He felt stuck outside of the mental reel, staring back at himself at—what _appeared_ —the same age he was now, considering what he was about to do. He reached out, and it slowly dimmed, fading until it disappeared, leaving only a blank spot in its place. He pressed on, he needed to go deeper.

He came to a black wall that appeared to be made of a thick smoke. Wispy tendrils sloughed off it, thinning the barricade before him as he watched. He'd come to the end of the memories the wizard could access. He nudged tentatively at the wall with his magic, and a cold shiver sank down his spine unbidden.

Screams and cries filled his senses, assaulting him. He steeled his mind, clamping down on his own thoughts to prevent the wizard from slipping in, and then he moved through.

His hands tightened their grip on Harry, his hold suddenly clammy. Voices whispered his name, begged him, flashes of loose memories not stored neatly spiraled around him. Curses, wand shots, _green, death_. He trod cautiously, the wizard's mind like a maze filled with land mines waiting to be set off. It was him, who'd ruined Harry's life, who'd slaughtered those he cared about... and so many others. He didn't know why though. Nor did he know why he'd want him in this time, with him, when the wizard was able to kill him; or why he'd have a piece of his soul stored inside him.

He needed to know why.

* * *

Grey eyes shot open. Tom's hands retracted from the wizard's neck. The face of a monster was seared on his mind's eye. His future.

"Tom...?"

_Terror and death._

"Tom, are you okay?"

_Destruction and absolute hatred engulfing all that was good and alive. Insanity. No control. He had no control, lost all semblance of humanity—_

" _Hey_."

A hand touched his leg, and he _saw_ green eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"I saw him. Voldemort," he said, and the air in his chest quivered imperceptibly in morbid amusement, black pupils growing as he recalled the memories he'd buried. "The wizard... who's responsible for your parents' deaths. You're right, he's dangerous."

Harry swallowed hard, searching his thoughts to no avail. He frowned, refocusing. "Do you know who he is?"

Tom's gaze drifted off, his voice soft. "No. I don't recognize that wizard." He felt the hand on his leg grow heavy. He closed his eyes in the dark, struggling to maintain his composure. He needed to focus on what was important. Harry had said his memories were coming back, and he could tell the wall blocking off the majority of them was temporary... as were his manipulations. He couldn't remove them all, not without leaving the wizard mentally ravaged. He had two viable options. "Harry, I have something to ask of you..."

"Okay, what is it?" The wizard sounded unsure.

He took a second, letting the silence between them stretch until it felt paper thin. He flexed his jaw and met emerald orbs in the dark. He wet his lips, his pulse jumping in his throat, static buzzing in his thoughts. "I'd like you to leave here... Hogwarts. _Tonight_. With me."

Harry glanced around the bed where they sat, not able to make out any noises but for his own shallow breaths. He felt off, and he didn't know why exactly, but he had an idea. He wanted to trust the wizard, but he couldn't ignore the knot forming in his stomach. "What for?"

"I need to share some things with you about... _myself_..."—the tall wizard paused, appearing to struggle to continue—"things I need you to understand, but it's not _safe_ for me to do that here."

Harry nodded faintly as he felt the knot grow. He studied the wizard. "What about my memories?"

Tom shifted closer, looking down at him. His stormy gaze bore down on him with an intensity the wizard had never experienced before, and he fought to not lose himself in them.

"It's best if you see them for yourself," he told him, his voice suddenly quiet, "and I'll do everything in my power to restore them once I've finished. No exceptions. You have my _word_."

Harry considered Tom's request. He didn't know a lot of things at that moment, but he did know somehow that he was safest staying at Hogwarts... and that Tom had just admitted to the opposite. He cleared his throat, his chest tight. "Where do you want to go?"

"My home."

Harry fought his better judgement.

"I'm aware I'm asking a lot of you."

Harry nodded, agitated at the concession, but then he said, "Okay. I'll go with you."

 


	33. Chapter 33

They stood at the edge of the Astronomy Tower, the grounds far below hidden in steep shadows, the cool air damp. The distant forest was filled with a quiet anticipation.

Harry adjusted the mockneck collar of his black woollen sweater, pulling it up higher. He glanced back over at the stairway that led back down to the school that felt almost like home to him. "Should we tell Avery?"

He looked up at Tom when he received no response. The tall wizard was wearing a black trench coat and matching slacks, his wavy, raven hair still mussed somewhat and the circles under his eyes seemed even darker against his porcelain skin under the pale moonlight.

"No, it's best we keep him out of this," Tom said, quietly, "I don't want to implicate him in anyway."

Harry nodded, acknowledging for the first time that what they were doing would possibly get them in a lot of trouble, himself especially. The reminder somehow strengthened his resolve to go through with it.

He moved closer to the wizard who hadn't touched him since he'd let him into his mind. He spoke, his voice rough as he struggled not to speculate why that might be the case, because none of the reasons boded well. "Let's go then."

"All right." The wizard flexed his jaw a few times, hesitating for some reason. Then he took Harry's right hand gently, slowly lifting it and settling it on the back of his neck, _carefully_ , and then he did the same with his left as he edged nearer, their chests almost touching. Tempestuous grey eyes slipped shut as they turned to the ceiling.

" _Harry_ ," he whispered, his voice filled with some emotion that found its way into the other wizard's chest, twisting there, "don't let go."

"I won't," Harry said, tightening his hold reflexively, and he felt the wizard flinch beneath it ever so slightly. Then he was suddenly pulled into a vacuum.

* * *

"They're gone."

"What do you mean _gone_? I thought _no_ _one_ could disapparate from here?"

A twenty-something Draco Malfoy paced back and forth within the transfiguration professor's office, his platinum blond hair in a state of complete disarray. The knot of his tie had been pulled on to the point of it threatening to come undone, and usually reserved light grey eyes were wide with obvious concern. "Why would Harry leave here with him?"

"Yes, well, as you and I both know Tom Riddle's powers tend to... surpass what is considered possible." The grey-bearded professor paused then, looking unusually solemn, his hands clasped as he sat at his desk. The time-traveller, Draco Malfoy, was staring at him expectantly with an air of impatience. "As for why... I fear, Mr. Malfoy, I haven't been completely upfront with you regarding the nature of Mr. Potter's and his relationship..."

The tall blond wizard took an unconscious step back. " _Their_ _relationship_?" he breathed, and then he raised his chin, his expression darkening. "This was a _mistake_ , I'm ending it now."

* * *

Harry felt air rush back into his lungs, filling them too quickly, and he took a step back as his legs wobbled, threatening to fail him, his head spinning. He felt a steadying hand on his arm.

"Careful," was said, and the wizard realized his surroundings. He was on an outcrop of land that jutted out over a churning dark sea.

He glanced around their desolate surroundings, and he stepped forward into the wizard's space to move away from the edge. "This is your... home?" he asked, hesitantly.

"Do you not like it?"

Harry looked up in surprise to find the wizard's red lips curled, the expression not reaching stony grey orbs. He blinked a few times. "I—"

"Follow me." Tom cut him off, turning away.

Harry stood for a few beats, the ocean crashing hungrily below, vibrating the ground beneath him and tickling the soles of his feet. He took in a tight breath and began after the wizard. A large opening in the side of a mountain made itself known as he approached, and he watched Tom's figure slowly become engulfed in it. He slowed his step, stopping at the mouth. It felt _familiar_.

A green glow suddenly filled the space, lighting the area and drawing the wizard from his thoughts. Tom was turned, looking back at him. "You should stay close," he said, offering a hand out, palm up.

Harry nodded ever so slightly, letting out a puff of visible air, and he moved towards the wizard and into the cave. The air was notably cooler, and the ground was slick, smooth rocks shifting and crunching together beneath his shoes. He thought he heard water trickling somewhere. He reached out, placing his hand in the wizard's pale one that was cast in a green hue.

Then they began to walk together.

Harry glanced around quietly, the conjured green orb lighting their path as their previous steps became shrouded in darkness behind them. The wizard swallowed, his heart beginning to thud heavily against his ribcage. He stopped when Tom tugged at his hand, and he watched with confusion as the tall wizard slid his free hand down the wall, stopping all of a sudden.

He didn't process hissed words or the sudden flutter of bat wings all around, more focused on the blood trickling down from the wizard's palm.

The floor beneath him began to shake, and his attention was shifted to a moving wall he'd just noticed, a cavernous room revealing itself that was filled with water. Some emotion wrapped around his lungs trying to suffocate him.

"You must be _very_ quiet," was whispered in his ear, and he felt himself nod tightly. He knew the place; he'd definitely been there before. His hand tightened on the wizard's as he was guided towards a boat. He climbed on first, taking his seat carefully on a small bench.

Tom hissed another charm, and they were cutting silently across dark waters. They reached a small island, and Harry climbed out, glancing around. There stood a black tent a few yards away that looked like it could only fit one full-grown wizard. "You stay here over break?" he asked.

"Yes, it's far better than the alternative," Tom said quietly by his side, "come, I'll show it to you."

Harry followed the wizard, ducking his head to enter the tent behind the wizard, and his eyes widened as he took in the room that looked like a copy of their dorm, but there was only one bed and one desk; and a green sofa sat where his four post would normally. He cleared his throat. He could just make out what looked like a kitchen through a doorway to his right, and he assumed the washroom was the one opposite it. "It's nice."

"It's depressing."

Harry looked over, pitch-dark brows lifted, and he met wry grey eyes. He broke into a sheepish grin. "Yeah. A little," he allowed, feeling uneasy as he looked around the room more. "You said it was better than the alternative...?"

There was silence, and Harry found himself looking over once more.

"I told you my mother died, and my father, he wanted nothing to do with either of us." Tom closed his eyes slowly, and he let out a silent breath. His voice sounded different as he continued, angrier. "I grew up in an orphanage until Hogwarts, and it's where I was sent each break, until I decided I'd had enough."

Harry felt himself sit on the edge of the wizard's bed. "Enough of what?" he asked in a careful voice, his words rough, twisting in his chest.

"Muggles can be very... cruel, to each other... to _wizards_ ," Tom said in response. He still stood in the center of the room, and Harry felt himself nodding, the sentiment echoing painfully true. "They fear what they don't understand. I'd thought Hogwarts would be an end to all that for me... I was wrong." A dry sound, that couldn't qualify as a laugh escaped the tall wizard's lips. His gaze grew distant, an unhinged quality taking them over.

Harry frowned. He clenched his jaw. "I'm sorry, Tom."

The tall wizard seemed to snap back a little at his words. He tilted his head to the side, and his expression grew dark. "Are you really? You don't _know_ me, Harry. There are things I've done that would make your skin _crawl_."

Harry felt blood begin to whoosh in his ears, his heart tapping unsteadily. "Try me."

The raven-haired wizard moved forward, and he settled down beside him, turning to face him straight on. "Do you really want to know? I've had to block them from my own mind they're so terrible."

Harry looked down at the wizard's lap. His hands were balled into fists, and there was a trail of drying blood slipping under his left cuff. "What did you see earlier? Why are you telling me all this now?"

The bed creaked softly. "I saw you, and me—we're enemies, where you come from."

Harry tried to swallow, the action impossible, his throat too dry. "And you hope to, what, change my mind? So we're not?"

" _Yes_ ," was said immediately, the wizard's body rocking ever so slightly closer but not meeting his at any point. "Harry, I've done things I would change if given the opportunity, but I'm _not_ what I saw in your memories. Something happened to me, is going to happen to me. I want to show you my life, so when I free your locked memories, you'll take it into consideration."

Harry said nothing for a long moment. He couldn't think, his heart was racing, his thoughts trying to do the same. _Enemies_. He wet dry lips, looking up. "What if it doesn't matter to me? What if I don't want to see them, yours or mine?"

Tom stared back at him, grey eyes softening only to almost instantly grow hard once more, cold. "You will."

Harry shifted closer, the tall wizard tensing in response. "Do we have to do it tonight? Couldn't we wait until morning?" He placed his hand on the wizard's chest, a racing heart meeting his palm, and he shifted closer until his leg bumped the wizard's.

"You'll want to know first," the wizard said, his low voice tight. He studied Harry's hand on his chest. " _Trust me_."

Harry swallowed hard, his tightening throat still fighting the simple action, and he found himself nodding faintly. "All right," he spoke up. "Show me."

"Look into my eyes, Harry."

Vivid emerald met intense grey.

"I'm going to let you into my mind."


	34. Chapter 34

Harry found himself standing in complete darkness.

He didn't move, something keeping him rigidly still, as he waited.

The area just before him began to glow as if a candle had been lit, revealing a scene he hadn't anticipated.

Small hands shook, red fingertips not visible in the dark. A soft cry slunk its way around the communal sleeping room, teasing the tenuous silence.

A nine year old Tom rolled over to face the wall, and an icy chill from its brick surface seemed to seep into his very core like it had been invited. The metal frame beneath a thin and worn mattress dug into his heavily bruised side. He tucked thin arms more tightly against his chest as he began to shake uncontrollably.

_Cold_.

"What's wrong Riddle... d'you want your blanket back?"

Grey eyes closed, and the small boy began to whisper to himself to block out the taunting older voice. _Cold. Too cold._ He was hungry too, but he'd gotten used to that; he couldn't seem to get used to the cold. His lips and tongue were even starting to feel numb. Soon his father would find him though, he was still alive.

"I guess I could share, just for tonight."

He'd find where he'd ended up and come get him, and then things would—His teeth began to chatter.

"Come on, you can trust me... You know, Ivan's been planning something pretty messed up for you, you might need a friend to help you."

He shifted closer to the wall, trying to block out the deceivingly gentle voice behind him.

_So cold._

* * *

He retched but nothing came up.

He felt phantom hands all over him, on his neck and in his _hair_ , and he clenched his eyes shut, trying to block it all out, his skin crawling; and he retched again.

His chest ached and stomach curled painfully.

It had happened before, but this had been _worse. So much worse._

He hated them, he wanted to kill them, _all_ of them.

His mind shook behind his eyes, and he flexed his swollen jaw over and over, his heart pounding, trying to escape. He dug fingernails into parched ground, scraping chalky feeling dirt underneath them as his gaze grew unfocused. Grey eyes darkened, and he felt the air around him begin to thicken.

"Are you okay?" was asked in a hissed voice.

* * *

"Please, no, no— _please_."

Tom smiled at that. He looked down at the two boys who'd taken turns torturing him for too long.

He crouched, Nagini wrapped loosely around his neck beneath his coat slipping out to hiss threateningly at the person gaping up at him like he was a monster.

He rested easily on the balls of his feet. "Don't worry, Ivan," he said quietly, softly, so his voice wouldn't echo in the cave. He felt no sympathy for the older boy when he gasped in terror as he raised his hand again, his friend unconscious and bleeding profusely. "It's not like you'll ever need it again."

Harry began to backpedal, turning away when screams began to shake the walls around him. Then he suddenly found himself standing on a road as rain poured down, the darkened sky angry as it _flashed_ in a cutting jagged line of electric.

A man who looked alarmingly like Tom stood only feet away, expensive clothes soaked. "You think I didn't _know_ where you were?" the man shouted, a sneer twisting his feaures, and Harry realized then Tom was behind him, staring through him and at the man who'd just shouted at him.

The tall wizard's chest rose and fell raggedly. "You knew?" he asked, sounding uncharacteristically affected.

"Of course I did." The man snarled and strode towards him, stopping once they were nose to nose. "We're not family, do you understand? You might _look_ like me, but you're an _abomination_ ," he spat, his words like ice, "just like your _whore_ of a mother. I don't even know why they kept you _alive_ , I told them you were a _freak_ and to get rid of you, but they didn't believe me, not until it was too late." The man took a few steps back then, Tom saying nothing in response, appearing frozen in place, "I'm not scared of you though, l'll do it _myself_."

Silver metal flashed as the entire sky lit up again, and Tom's wand arm shot up just in time.

* * *

Harry jerked back with a gasp, his ears ringing. He blinked rapidly, working to clear the mental image stained red in his mind.

He felt the bed beneath him shift, and he focused on the wizard moving away from him.

Tom still sat, every muscle visibly tensed, and his dark stormy eyes swam in a mixture of unrestrained fury, uncertainty, and a resonating pain in which Harry felt like he might drown.

The tall wizard's jaw flexed as silence filled the space between them, and he raised his chin slightly, his expression hardening.

"Tom," Harry said hoarsely, and he fought to find the right response. He thought over what all he'd seen. He closed his eyes, struggling.

"There are more," was said quietly, "but those are the worst."

Harry nodded imperceptibly, and he looked up finally, some emotion welling inside him and whirling, picking up momentum. He met the wizard's gaze, and he felt it begin to claw in his chest. "I'm ready to have my memories back now."

* * *

"Unfortunately, I can't let you do that, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco Malfoy started to protest when the old wizard stood and with a deliberate wave at a forgotten cloudy orb said, "the prophecy, you see, it has just changed."


	35. Chapter 35

Harry had known it before he even saw it, before cool hands had grasped his face to stabilize it, before smooth thumbs had _carefully_ touched to his temples, and before unfathomably piercing, grey eyes had turned down to meet his. Before his memories had been restored in a dizzying rush, like a dam had been split in half inside his head flooding it.

He felt the wizard's touch leave him. He felt a cooling breath brush his cheek.

His teeth clamped together, and he ground them. No. No. _No_ —

"There is one memory I removed. I can't restore it, but I can tell you what it was if you'd like."

Harry felt like his body groaned in a single effort to maintain control. Everything began to tremble around him.

"I wouldn't advise that type of reaction," was said in a quietly tense voice, "you may wake things best left asleep."

Green eyes opened in realization. Harry met Tom Riddle's gaze straight on. _Voldemort_.

He felt his lungs fill, and he saw lips move, but he couldn't make out the words over the whooshing in his ears. " _What was the memory you removed_?" he heard himself demand.

Tom didn't respond right away. A cold humor curled his lips ever so slightly on one side only. "It was... a version of me, revealing my true identity."

Harry noticed the wand in Tom's hand, and he clenched his right hand into a fist. "Did you plan all this? My time travel? My memory loss? _Us_?"

The tall wizard pressed his lips together before responding succinctly, "No, not that I'm aware."

Harry blew out a pressing breath and clenched his eyes shut again. "You killed my parents, my _family_. And all those people. You wanted to kill _everyone_."

"I am not ... Voldemort, Harry, I assure you—not yet."

Harry opened his eyes again at that. "How can you be so calm about this then?"

Grey eyes blinked, and Tom shifted forward, Harry's muscles firing rapidly and tensing in preparation as the space between them dwindled. "I'm _not_ ," the tall wizard said with obvious effort as he looked down at him, his lips twitching, and he paused for a heavy beat, "but I can't _afford_ to lose control right now, not with us alone." He continued more quietly. "I understand how upsetting this must be for you, but I meant what I said... I don't want to be your enemy, Harry."

Harry felt a hand brush the side of his, and his magic surged vehemently in protest even as his chest twisted.

Tom shifted even closer, his eyelids mostly obscuring a gaze of pure want. "You and I, we are tied together by _fate_. I don't want to fight you, or hurt you. I want to be with you."

"You want to _be_ with me?" Harry asked between gritted teeth, "and what, we just forget _all_ your future self does, _is_ going to do, _has done_?"

"No," Tom said, quietly. The tall wizard creeped forward the last bit until his leg was just touching Harry's, and he held his breath for a moment when it tried to evacuate too quickly. Excitement intertwined with a more violent emotion that gnawed behind his ribs. He released his wand _carefully_ , laying it on his bed between them for Harry to see. He exhaled silently, his empty hand lifting, a tremor barely suppressed, fingertips tingling.

He touched Harry's jaw with just his index and middle finger and felt it flex beneath, not relaxing. "I want to help you stop me, and I will, if you let me."

Harry blinked rapidly, too many emotions warring in his chest to make sense. " _How_?" he blurted, and then he sucked in a sharp breath, his vision growing dark. "If I believed you, _how_ would we do that?"

Tom swallowed softly. He traced his knuckles gently back and forth along the wizard's jaw as he worked viciously to keep his thoughts straight. "Very... _carefully_ ," he replied, his low voice taking on a breathy quality, "we could use the time turner that brought you here, and we would have the advantage of being aware not to mention his survival being dependent on mine, but I—he would have more knowledge, he'd be more powerful."

Harry said nothing, his mind at war with his body. He moved back from the touch, Tom's outstretched hand lowering to his side after a moment's hesitation. "Why would you do that?" he asked, anger and confusion warring for his attention.

Tom's gaze dipped, and he studied his wand silently that, if needed, may very well prove useless against the wizard; and he let his mind for a second revisit Harry pulling away from his touch only moments before. His jaw flexed ever so slightly.

"Because, I have no _aspirations_ to become what I saw," the tall wizard said, his words slow and matching the uneven cadence of his thoughts, "my future self, _he and I_ , we are _not_ one and the same." He looked up, gauging the wizard's reaction, and he resisted flexing his wand hand reflexively. He spoke back up, his voice taking on an unusually rough quality. "It would seem, we have much different _priorities_ ," he said, pointedly.

Harry swallowed hard, and his head shook without his permission. He didn't know what to think. Anger washed over him, grief surging in response, confusion wrapping around him too tight, and his upper body began to tense. He thought back to the private memories the wizard had shared with him, and another emotion welled in his chest and up into his throat. He said, the words barely audible, "I need to think about it."

There was a pause. "I understand."

Harry nodded faintly, and then he felt his shoulders sag, a sudden heaviness taking over him, as his mind continued to rediscover memory after memory. His forehead throbbed.

He felt the mattress on his side before even realizing he'd lain down. It was all too much. He felt like his eyes could barely stay open, and he fought it, a shadow falling over him. He thought he heard his name. Something was wrong. "I don't feel right," he mumbled, the action oddly exhausting.

" _How_?" was asked immediately, a palpable tension in the single word. "How do you feel?"

"I feel, I feel..." Harry felt his mind shutting down, his lips suddenly numb. He barely registered being lifted.

* * *

" _Harry_?" Hands were on the wizard's face. Several voices were speaking, but he couldn't make them out. Green eyes flicked back and forth under closed lids. "Harry, can you hear me?"


	36. Chapter 36

Tom studied the phoenix beside him. Grey eyes flicked down to study sharp talons.

"You wanted to speak with me, Tom?"

The tall wizard didn't look up. His left hand tightened around the armrest beneath it as the transfiguration professor sat down across from him. "I did, Professor, it's regarding Harry Potter."

"Yes, he's still unresponsive. I must thank you again for bringing him to me when he fell ill."

The Slytherin studied fiery red feathers and then shifted up to a lethal-looking beak. "Can you not _fix_ whatever is wrong?" he asked, tightly.

"Possibly, if there were something specifically wrong. It doesn't appear to be a physical or magical ailment though..."

Sharp grey eyes met piercing blue finally. "Then what is affecting him? Because he is clearly not well."

The old wizard held his gaze, and Tom kept his thoughts tightly guarded as he refused to look away. "You seem worried about him."

The young wizard held back a sneer. "Does that surprise you, Professor?"

Dumbledore rested his chin on clasped hands as he studied Tom with a quiet curiosity. "I apologize, that was rude of me. I believe, Harry's mind may be trying to protect him. It seems to be whole once more, and it may have been too much to handle. I believe though he will wake up once his recovered memories have settled properly."

Tom resisted wetting dry lips. He glanced down when the phoenix by his right side moved closer, and grey eyes narrowed.

"He's very interested in you today." The words said with interest. "Were you aware, you and Harry both carry one of his feathers in your wand?"

Tom said nothing.

"You two share many similarities, I see that now. In fact, in many ways you remind me of two young wizards — from a long time ago."

The old wizard paused, his voice sounding somewhat different when he continued, less subdued.

"Which reminds me... I've been researching time travel recently and was able to procure an interesting muggle work on the matter. Do you know, it is theorized if a timeline is changed significantly, it will split from itself into two separate ones? Each one being independent of the other from that point on. It's obviously not that simple, but I assume the basics are what's important."

The dark-haired Slytherin processed the unexpected information, his expression remaining neutral.

There was a heavy exhale. "I feel another apology is in order here as well, Tom." Silence. "Years ago, after our first meeting, I judged you, and I fear, I've treated you accordingly ever since."

Tom stood up abruptly when the bird attempted to tug at his collar, the chain to Harry's time turner resting just beneath. He adjusted his tie with agitated fingers. "I didn't come here for apologies, Professor. Do I have permission to see Harry now or not?"

* * *

Tom walked silently behind the transfiguration professor, down the corridors and towards the hospital wing. Portraits whispered as they passed, and lightning flashed in the distance, lighting up the Forbidden Forest outside arched windows. It was storming again.

When they reached the doors to the hospital he stopped a few feet back to watch Dumbledore speak quietly, under a muffling charm, with an unknown blond wizard, who'd just stepped out.

"All right, I will remove the wards and be right back with you, Mr. Riddle."

Tom nodded slightly. "Thank you, Professor," he said without any inflection as he continued to watch the other wizard suspiciously.

The door closed.

The blond started to openly fidget as they stood outside alone, just yards away. Tom began to walk forward to close the distance. "Do I know you?" he asked, his question echoing off dark stone walls. He stopped when he could better make out the wizard's features in the dimly lit hall.

"No, I'm not a student," the wizard said, taking a slight step back.

Tom tilted his head slightly, and he took a compensatory one forward. "You're a Malfoy." He slid his tongue along the inside of his cheek as he regarded the wizard. He probed gently at his mind, and a mental wall shot up. He backed off slightly, smiling at the wizard somewhat. Then he took another step forward until he was looking down at the blond he'd backed into the wall. "Were you seeing Harry?" he asked in a smooth voice.

The wizard's light grey eyes hardened at that, and Tom took the moment to slip around the constructed wall before it could widen.

_"Think about how much happier we would be tomorrow if Voldemort had never existed. Both our families could be there."_

_A visibly older Harry looked over, green eyes wary. The wizard was in only a pair of red boxers as he sat with the blond in an oversized bed with a gold and silver duvet. "You shouldn't think like that, Draco. You'll only make yourself unhappy." The dark-haired wizard reclined, staring up at the ceiling. "Anyway, how would you even make something to travel more than a few minutes back in time?"_

_"You could start with a time turner most likely." The blond thought for a moment. "You'd need a marker of some sort on the piece, something that could take you to a certain person so there'd be less risk. Perhaps their magical signature to use as a homing device of sorts, and then all you'd need is to alter the timepiece's increments."_

_Harry smiled faintly at that. "And how would you obtain Voldemort's magical signature?"_

_"I wouldn't need to. I'd go back to my godfather, and he would do it, of course. All we'd need after that is your cooperation."_

_Harry began to laugh at that, not noticing the wizard's serious expression. "If you could manage all that, then you could count me in."_

* * *

Harry groaned, eyes tightly shut.

Tom approached the wizard's hospital bed quietly, the maddening impenetrable wall surrounding it finally gone. He'd been forced to go to Dumbledore for permission to see Harry when he'd been unable to weaken it enough.

The thought caused red lips to press together tightly as he stopped by the lying wizard's side. The wizard was covered in a sheen of sweat where his skin was visible under a pale moonlight. His legs twitched restlessly under white sheets, and his chest rose and fell too rapidly.

Tom reached out, and his hand hovered just over clammy skin. Harry turned into it, resting his forehead into his open palm, and a soft sigh escaped the unconscious wizard's lips seconds later.

"Tom..." the wizard murmured, not opening his eyes. He shivered.

The tall wizard felt his chest tighten, and he leaned down. His lips just shy of the wizard's ear when he stopped. "I'm right here, Harry," he whispered. Hands were suddenly tugging him closer, and he allowed them to pull him further down. He climbed onto the hospital bed with care, the air in his lungs expanding too much. A puff of air escaped him.

He met suddenly open green eyes, a feverish expression behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave some thoughts if you're enjoying, or if you're not, you can tell me that too, hah. I've just been feeling like a shitty writer as of late, so, yeah, input would be great right now. thanks for reading


	37. Chapter 37

Tom drew in a silent breath as he watched emerald orbs slowly clear of their confusion, the exhaustion behind them hanging on along with some _other_ quiet emotion that had his chin lifting and jaw flexing ever so subtly.

The wild-haired wizard blinked a few times, and then he cleared his throat when it felt like something was caught in it.

Tom. Tom Riddle was in his bed right in front of him, studying him.

Recent memories of their interactions over the past month tried to all surge forward at once. A sickening wave washed over him, and green eyes darted around, avoiding unfathomably piercing slate orbs. Harry's brain began to process their surroundings to avoid the persistent thoughts he couldn't even begin to address. "What happened... are we... back at Hogwarts?"

Tom felt the wizard's upper body lean away ever so slightly, and he said, his chest tightening, the pressure crawling up into his throat, "Yes. You passed out. I couldn't wake you." He paused for a moment before adding, "So I brought you to"—he kept lips from twitching—"to Dumbledore."

Harry said nothing, his mind spinning dizzily. He nodded faintly, eyes sliding shut. Tom. He was lying in bed with _Tom Marvolo Riddle_ , the echoing thought sounding worse each time.

The wind groaned outside, ruffling ghostly white drapes just a few feet away. Discreet footsteps sounded beyond the curtains, passing, and a notably cool air snuck into the space, the atmosphere thinning.

Tom felt the wizard shift. He swallowed softly when a hand tentatively brushed the front of his shirt, pressing the material against his chest. "You've been out for two days," he forced out, his voice a breathy whisper, "I've been blocked out until now, Dumbledore put up a wall when he couldn't wake you right away."

Harry grimaced, and he nodded, just barely. He now understood _fully_ the tension between the transfiguration professor and the Slytherin. He started to entertain the multitude of memories regarding the two at his disposal, but stopped short when his lungs felt like they might collapse. Cooling air stilling as raindrops began to splatter against a charmed window, he became aware in the sudden stagnancy of his rogue fingertips grazing the wizard's starched shirt, and he found he couldn't bring himself to pull back. He could feel tension rolling off the Slytherin in waves. "Thank you," he said, pausing, his voice as raw as his thoughts, "for helping me."

Silence followed.

Harry clenched his eyes shut when they started to burn. He balled his hand into a fist, the loss of contact confusingly worse. Everything began to hum, the air shaking inside and outside of him.

Grey eyes intensified. Tom felt the mattress beneath him begin to vibrate, the bed's metal feet rattling fervently against heavy stone. He slid off the edge of the hospital bed with care when Harry's aura began to swell, darkening. His wand dropping into his hand as he stood, he searched for the wizard's wand in the dark, scanning empty nightstands without feeling relief. He didn't see Dumbledore leaving him unarmed in his presence. Then he saw it, in the wizard's hand.

Emerald orbs glared at him, and Tom lifted his wand, pointing it straight at the wizard who'd yet to raise his own. " _Harry_ ," he said, pausing to address a familiar but unwanted surge of emotions as they began to crackle in anticipation through his body. He cocked his head slightly, his tongue sneaking out to wet dry lips, and the air in his lungs started to expand. He focused intently on the wizard as he sat up stiffly taking note of the wand pointed at him. Green eyes narrowed. A lightness began to tease at the Slytherin's mind. Tom tightened his grip around his wand. "Harry, I _need_ you to stay calm," he bit out, and then he felt his lips pull back as a snarl rolled in his chest. Focus. _Focus_.

The glass on the nightstand fell, landing with a hard crash.

"I'm not the one pointing my wand, _Tom_ ," Harry said back lowly, his shoulders squaring and chest puffing up with a growing fury. He slipped off his shaking bed, and it began to thump loudly as he stood, facing the increasingly unhinged looking wizard. He found no pity at that moment though as his overactive mind continued to run on overload. He didn't trust him. His hand flexed around the wand hanging by his side. "You should go."

Tom felt the maddening pressure in his lungs change, instead of trying to escape it was suddenly squeezing into a tight ball. His lips curled up, and he shook his head, the movement almost imperceptible. "No, I can't, I can't do that. You see... this needs _resolved_." He swallowed, carefully gathering his thoughts when he wanted to laugh for some reason, a desperate sensation tugging at him painfully. _Resolved_. The thought of losing the wizard by his own hand... a madness began to tease him, and he met the wizard's emerald gaze with a renewed fervor. _Focus. Focus._ " _Tell me, Harry_ , what do you want to happen now?"

Harry said nothing. He resisted raising his arm as the furniture around him grew increasingly angry. He didn't know if the same rules applied to their wands in the world in which he'd been thrown. He remembered that. He also remembered what had set everything in motion: dreaming about a young Tom Riddle, sneaking out for a late night broom ride to clear his nerves, hiding under his cloak, being found...

He forced his focus back on the wizard before him, who was pointing his wand at him with an icy expression curling his dark features eerily. But he'd yet to attempt to curse him... Tom... he'd yet to do _any_ of the things he was so upset about.

The furniture came to a sudden stop, but the wizard's magic refused to pull back in, instead hanging all around him suddenly still, like a serpent, waiting to strike.

Harry looked into cold grey eyes he barely recognized, and he felt a twinge amidst the noxious emotions overwhelming him. "What do I _want_?" he said through clenched teeth, trying to push through the tempestuous fog that was his mind to answer.

"Yes. After seeing your own memories, you must understand—I need, to _know_ ," the tall wizard said, a tremor trying to sneak into his hand as he continued to hold the wizard under wandpoint. He should just attack, take the initiative, Harry had beaten him time after time in the future, but just then, he was _clearly_ torn—it would only play in his favor. He held back, to ask the only thing he cared about at that moment. "Do you want to _kill me_?"

Harry looked down to his wand, the unanswered question whirling in the air between them, waiting and thickening it. He remembered all the deaths, the insurmountable pain, the terror and loss.

He felt his throat tighten, and he swallowed with effort. "No," he said, barely able to get the word out, his voice rough, only a whisper. He shook his head as he thought over all their moments together and what all the wizard had shared with him, a certain thundering organ behind his ribs feeling like it might escape. Then he looked back up and said in a hoarse voice, "I don't. I don't want to fight you either, Tom."

The tall wizard cautiously lowered his wand, and he eyed the time traveler shrewdly, searching for any signs of deceit. He watched then, silently, as Harry deliberately set his wand on the nightstand by his side, and then he began to approach.

Tom raised his chin, not responding when Harry stopped just inches in front him. He looked down over his nose. "What is it that you want then?" he asked softly, the wizard unaware he'd slipped into parseltongue.

Harry said nothing for a few beats. Blood whooshed in his ears, guilt wrapped tighter and tighter around his lungs, and his mind, confused, refused to settle as he peered into stormy grey eyes that seemed to see straight into him but without any judgement.

He spoke up when Tom started to shift back. "You," he blurted, causing the tall wizard to pause, and his head shook, a portion of himself disagreeing even as he clarified, "I mean... if you're still willing to help, I'd like that."

Tom held his lips steady when they tried to twitch, and he lifted his free hand, gently grasping the back of Harry's neck as he leaned down. He hovered over slightly parted lips, letting jagged short breaths puff against his chin as he waited.

And Tom felt an open palm settle on his chest, over his heart; and then fingers scrunched up, grasping his shirt in them, tugging him closer. "And _us_?" he asked, his voice even softer.

He smiled, the expression not reaching dark grey eyes, when he received an unsteady nod from the wizard. He dipped the slightest bit to breathe against Harry's mouth: "Voldemort is as good as _dead_."


	38. Chapter 38

Harry sat in the Great Hall the next day for dinner. His food untouched, the wild-haired wizard was chewing on his right thumbnail as he stared down at the other end of the table at a certain older wizard.

_Orion Black._

Green eyes watched the raven-haired wizard in morbid curiosity. Sirius hadn't said a lot about his parents in the small time they'd had together, but what he had shared had been very negative. Then, there was what Tom had said about the seventh year Slytherin too... The Black heir, who looked _disturbingly_ like the pictures he'd seen of his godfather from when he was at Hogwarts, seemed oddly benign as he spoke quietly to a platinum blond seated by his side. _Malfoy_ , his thoughts supplied for him readily even though he'd already known that, because just then, it meant a lot more.

His lips twisted in distaste at the newfound knowledge of the Slytherin's family, well, of his future family. Harry was glad he hadn't gone out for the team after all. He'd been close to doing so, but something had held him back when the day came, a strong feeling of which he hadn't been able to pinpoint the cause at the time.

Harry huffed a silent breath of agitation. It was probably a combination of having to play under the dislikable head boy, and for Slytherin to add insult.

Harry fidgeted with the green and silver tie around his neck with his left hand, loosening the already loose knot even more. Ever since he'd put it on that morning he'd felt like it was suffocating him...

"Are you not going to eat?" The words brushed the wizard's ear in a soft puff, and Harry felt a shiver run down his spine. He looked away from the two wizards and down at his plate. He picked up a dinner roll and took a bite instead of answering. He felt weird around Tom, unbearably so, and he also felt impatient and agitated and unsettled—

"Harry, are you feeling all right?"

Harry's attention shot up, and the wizard found Avery studying him from across the table. Tom's best friend, Avery, and now, his good friend too. Harry swallowed, nodding as the food fought him viciously, his throat suddenly dry and tight. He'd only been released from the hospital just before dinner, and it was the first time he'd been around anyone other than Tom since his mind had become whole. He took a sip of pumpkin juice and cleared his throat before speaking up. "Yeah, I'm good. You?"

Blond brows lifted, and Harry's pitch-dark ones mimicked the action with some confusion.

"I'm fine, but I wasn't the one sick and in a coma for days..." Avery said, his blue eyes active, and his words probing.

"Right, ah, yeah—yeah I feel a lot better, thanks." Harry looked back down at his food and frowned at it. What was he doing? He didn't want to just sit and pretend like everything was okay, like nothing had changed. He wanted to go back to his time _now_ , to try to stop Voldemort, to save everyone he could, and he _also_ wanted to warn Dumbledore of Voldemort's ring before he left; and to go down to the end of the blasted table and _make_ Orion vow to _never_ mistreat Sirius, and he wanted—

A hand settled on his leg, and his racing thoughts came to a harsh stop. "I'm going on a walk, do you want to join me?" was asked in a private tone.

Harry didn't look up. The wizard's hand on his leg stayed, and he let out a held breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "To where?" he asked for some reason, and he closed his eyes when the hand crept up his thigh some, sending confusing feelings buzzing through him.

"To the lake," was said back smoothly.

Harry started to point out it was almost dark outside, but he stopped himself. He pushed himself out of the seat, needing the fresh air. "Yeah, okay."

* * *

Green eyes stared out at a dark watery surface. There was no wind, the Black Lake a perfect mirror of the black, star-pricked sky above.

Harry stood at the lake's edge, Tom a few steps behind him. "It looks the same..."

Tom said nothing.

Harry felt the air in his lungs expand uncomfortably so he let out a harsh breath. "It looks _exactly_ the _same_."

"Harry—"

Harry let out an angry sound, his mind refusing to relax. His shoulders and the muscles in his neck flexing, he clenched his jaw until his teeth began to hurt. "What am I waiting for, we need to go _now_."

A hand grasped his arm firmly, and the wizard tensed more, anger rushing in his chest.

"No. Listen to me. What we _need_ right now is to gather more information and to prepare," was said in a quiet voice. "Time is not significant, rushing can only hinder us."

Harry said nothing.

"I need to know everything you do about the future, and Voldemort, and then we need to plan out _every_ step and then every possible, _back-up_ step, because I'm not going to go into this with the possibility of failing."

Harry considered pulling away from the wizard. He looked up instead into dark, grey eyes, and something twisted around inside his chest. "What about Avery, do we tell him?"

Tom hesitated for only a split-second. "I think we should. He will help."

Harry nodded faintly before saying, his voice rough, "He's not alive in my time, what do you think happened to him?"

Dark grey eyes narrowed. "Knowing him, he probably tried to stop me at some point."

Harry let the admission sink in for a few seconds, and then he noticed the pale hand on his arm relax somewhat.

"I talked to Dumbledore today," he admitted, the words unwieldy on his tongue. The grip on his bicep fell away, and a pinching in his chest encouraged him to continue, "I know you don't trust him, and I didn't tell him anything significant, but I think maybe we should—"

"No." Tom took a step back, his expression darkening. "I will not work with him."

Harry flexed his jaw. "I trust him—"

"Then you're a _fool_ ," the taller wizard hissed, "he will only use you for his own agenda, and if you threaten it in _any way_ he will not hesitate to turn on you. Harry, I _saw_ glimpses of your childhood, in your mind"—Tom paused to let Harry protest, but received none—"he knew about it, he knew of your _suffering, just like he knew of mine_ , and he did _nothing_ to help you, merely because he thought it for the best."

Harry closed his eyes, struggling. "You don't know Dumbledore like I do," he said stubbornly.

"I don't need to, I know his character," Tom said, his words quiet once more, the wizard closer. "And I know that he would let us _both_ die if he thought that's what needed to happen. I'm not willing to sacrifice my life, or yours. You and I, together, we don't need his help. I'll speak with Slughorn if an issue arises, and we'll go to Borgin and Burkes in three days' time to get any more information we might have need of; and after that, we'll start planning."

Harry felt a cool fingertip graze his jawline in a whisper light touch. He kept his eyes closed, the tempestuous feeling in his chest growing. He swallowed around a lump. Maybe he was right, maybe—"And tonight?"

"Tonight...?"

Harry felt a cool breath on his cheek then, and he felt like running, his mind spinning.

"Tonight, I think, you need to relax some," was whispered against his chin.

Harry felt the air in his lungs evacuate all at once as lips pressed gently to the skin just beside his mouth, and he found he wanted to turn just the slightest bit to meet them straight on...

Dark brows pulled down and in, and Harry struggled to draw in a breath. He shouldn't, he knew he shouldn't, even if he'd told the wizard he still wanted to be with him. He needed time, he needed—"How?"

A hand grasped his, and he was tugged forward. He took a step blindly, and when cold water rushed into his shoes his eyes snapped back open. Tom guided him further into the icy water, his expression growing distant for a moment, and then suddenly a red flash lit up over the entire surface of the lake before disappearing, and the water began to heat.

Steam beginning to rise from the warming surface in small wisps, Tom pulled him in deeper, walking backwards, and when the water was just above his waist he stopped. He held the wizard's hand in his, looking down into his green gaze. "Do you like to swim?" he asked, point blank.

Harry said nothing at first, blinking a few times before he felt his lips begin to tug up without his approval, and his agitated mind began to calm. "Do you?"

Tom leaned down, hovering over smiling lips. "I like _very_ few things, Harry."

Harry nodded faintly, his attention darting down to close red lips before flicking back up. "What are they?"

Tom's lips moved ever so slightly closer. "Do you _really_ want to know?"

Harry nodded again but with less certainty.

"I like... things that make me feel alive," Tom said, his quietly smooth voice taking on a breathy quality, and he _carefully_ pressed his mouth to Harry's for a second before pulling back. " _Flying_. _Magic_." He paused to meet Harry's lips again, holding there until they started to part beneath his, then he whispered against the wizard's lower lip: " _You_."

Harry felt wet hands on his neck, and his chest had begun to heave. "I'm confused," he admitted before meeting intoxicating lips again, guilt building in his chest, and when he felt talented fingers begin to unbutton his shirt, he reached out and began to undo Tom's for him without thinking. "I don't know what I'm doing," he said even as he pushed the wizard's shirt off his shoulders.

Then his own shirt was gone, sinking, and cool hands were sliding over his bare body, up his back and around him, pulling him closer, and lips were on his throat. He groaned softly, tilting his head back at the sensation, his heart pounding against his ribs like it wanted to escape to leave him for the wizard touching him.

"Harry... I want to _feel_ you."

Harry nodded jerkily, and he gasped when fingertips grazed over the front of his slacks just under the water's surface. He reached down to undo them, allowing Tom's hand to sneak inside.

"You can hold onto my neck," was breathed against his throat, and he wrapped his arms around the taller wizard's neck with care, holding on more tightly as the hand stroking him sped up, their stomachs and chests touching.

Harry felt the wizard's upper body tense reflexively under his touch, and something twisted painfully deep inside him in realization. "Okay, no—no Dumbledore," he forced out unevenly, "you have my word."

The hand around him sped up more, and lips met his, over and over, the low broken moan escaping him just moments later swallowed completely.


	39. Chapter 39

Tom paused by Harry's bed, and he felt the back of a hand graze his untucked shirt over magically dried slacks. He could just make out Avery's bed curtains were pulled shut, the only light in the dungeon dorm coming from under their closed bathroom a few yards away.

"I guess I should get some rest." The words whispered roughly.

Tom tilted his chin down, leaning towards the wizard, whose presence he could sense. His heart was thumping softly as he whispered near the wizard's ear, "Do you mind if I join you?"

There was a pause before Harry answered, "No, that's fine."

Tom turned away to hiss at a fidgeting Nagini atop his bed.

"She can come too," Harry said quietly, "I don't mind."

Tom heard the sound of his familiar dropping to the floor, and he turned back to the wizard, barely able to make out his features. The mental image of a much larger and less friendly version of his snake from Harry's memories flashed through his mind.

His tongue snuck out to wet his lips just barely, the air suddenly buzzing with tension. He could hear the wizard undressing, and he took off his own shirt and slacks before sending them to his bed and closing the curtains with a wave of his hand.

Then he heard the wizard's mattress creak. He waited until it was silent once more to climb onto the bed and under cool blankets. He settled on his side, and he felt Nagini slip up his right ankle and wrap around his lower leg comfortably. Then he felt Harry's exposed shoulder brush his chest as he shifted around some in front of him, and he carefully slipped his arm around the wizard's waist to stop his moving. His hand laid flat on the wizard's tone stomach, only his palm making contact.

He closed his eyes tightly, his body tensed. He slowly let out a silent breath from his nostrils, his teeth clamped together, and he let his fingertips settle lightly on the wizard's warm skin.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes."

"Good... ah, where's, ah, where's Nagini...?"

The tall wizard's lips began to creep up at the corners, and he shifted forward until his lips were just shy of damp mussed black locks. He could smell the wizard's shampoo. It smelled of _mint_. "Does she make you nervous now?" he asked, his smooth voice quiet.

Harry cleared his throat, not moving despite feeling the urge to fidget. "No. Just curious." He cleared his throat again.

Tom slid his right leg forward in response, across cool silky sheets, until the top of his foot was resting against the bottom of Harry's. He felt the familiar begin to slowly unwind from around his calf, and then he could feel her wrapping around Harry's too, pressing their legs together in her grip, Tom's knee resting in the crook of Harry's once she was finished.

"Ah. That, ah, that feels a little..." Harry trailed off, and then he breathed a laugh, relaxing somewhat. "Are you comfortable now?" he hissed down to the familiar beneath green sheets.

"Ye _ss_ , goodnight, Harry."

Tom heard the hint of a smile in the wizard's voice as he responded. "Goodnight, Nagini." Then there was silence for a few long beats. "Tom..."

The tall wizard kept his eyes closed, his muscles suddenly seeming to want to mould to the bed as he lay pressed up against the back of the wizard, Nagini with them; he'd never felt anything like it before. He could see why his future self had tried to get the wizard—who threatened his very existence—to switch sides on more than one occasion... "Yes, Harry?" he asked, his words a silky whisper and his fingers finally relaxing overtop warm skin.

Harry took a few moments to respond. "...Goodnight," he whispered back, his voice sounding unusually affected.

Tom said nothing, letting his mind unwind more each time the wizard's stomach rose and then fell beneath his touch.

* * *

Emerald eyes shifted back and forth under closed lids. The bright light from daytime candles snuck over and through closed drapes, casting the bed and both occupants inside in a shade of green.

Harry grunted a small breath as his mind began to wake, barely processing the feel of Nagini unwrapping from his and Tom's leg. He felt a splayed hand slide up onto his chest, over the front of his neck and then settle firmly over his mouth. He tensed, waking more, and lips were at his ear.

"Shhh, Avery is _awake_."

Harry blinked a few times in confusion, his mind trying to shake off the sleep still wrapped warmly around his thoughts. He nodded faintly.

"He'll leave in a minute to shower," was breathed against his jaw, and the wizard lifted his hand after the door to their washroom open and closed as predicted.

Harry felt the bed dip behind him, and he rolled onto his back to look up at a sitting Tom. "Did you sleep okay?" He lifted a hand to rub roughly at mussed black locks, his jaw flexing, but he refused to look away from icy grey eyes. The question seemed out of place to ask the wizard, but then again, most conversation did ever since he'd gotten his memories back.

The tall wizard's pressed together lips curled slightly up one side. "I did... Did you?"

Harry felt all the air in his lungs evacuate without his consent as he looked up into dark smiling grey eyes. He didn't think he'd ever seen Tom's smile reach that far.

"Harry...?"

"Huh? _Oh_ , yeah, I, yeah—I did," he said, stumbling over his words, and he looked away and at the window on his wall, his heart skipping around inside his chest unsteadily making him feel a little woozy, his mental faculties trying to follow suit. He clenched green eyes shut.

"I'm going to the library after class today."

Harry found his attention once more focused on the wizard in his bed. He said nothing at first, distracted by the Slytherin's exposed bare side, his porcelain skin oddly mesmerizing under the pale green hue. "All right..." he said, hesitant, finding he really wanted to join him, steadfastly ignoring warning bells going off in the back of his head that he shouldn't, at least... not for the reason that he did.

Tom slipped two fingers between hanging curtains. He split them slightly, tilting his head to the side and peering out into their dorm before glancing back down to Harry. "You can join me if you wish," he said with no inflection.

Before Harry could respond Tom had slipped out of his curtains, leaving him alone. The wild-haired wizard dropped back onto the bed, let out a heavy breath, and covered his eyes with his hands, his thoughts a whirling mess.

* * *

Harry sat later that day in the farthest, darkest corner of the library. He had his books spread out on an old table he didn't recognize. It was made of black stone instead of wood and so were the seats. A brushed bronze lantern floated some distance above the center of it, casting a greenish glow down on it and him.

He hadn't remembered the tables were different.

The skin surrounding green eyes pinched some, and Harry let out a silent breath when his body refused to do so on its own. He fiddled with the black hood of his sweatshirt instead of reading, his other hand covering his forehead as he leaned on it.

He tried to think of other things he hadn't remembered properly. The tables were different, but the lake wasn't; was the great hall the same? And if so, why were there differences? Had he caused some of the changes already somehow, or had they just been mere changes in decoration, insignificant?

The dark-haired wizard clenched his eyes shut, wishing he'd paid more attention to the history aspect of his world now, his thoughts drifting to Hermione and Ron. One of them would've known, Hermione probably.

He frowned at the thought, his mind drifting further. He wondered if they even realized he was gone yet, or how that worked...

"All right, Harry?"

Harry's gaze flicked up. His heart began to skip around in his chest predictably as he met Tom's cool gaze, and he swallowed hard, straightening himself, his voice sounding rough to his own ears as he responded, "I'm fine, just thinking."

He watched the Slytherin slide into the seat directly across from him. He knew he needed to calm down and adjust to the wizard's presence, particularly if they were going to work together on something so dangerous, but that was proving impossible... for more than one reason.

A foot grazed the side of his under the table, and he resisted moving it away. Tom's foot resting against his—on purpose he assumed, because the Slytherin wasn't the careless type—the tall wizard opened the book he'd just gotten without another word.

Grey eyes blinked. Tom began to scan the pages as he flipped slowly, searching for a specific passage on soul magic. His family ring sat in his right pocket once more. Two. He was almost certain just two... He carefully turned the next page, yellowed parchment, resting on his left hand as he kept his spot. He'd need to talk to Slughorn after all it would seem—

"What are you looking for?"

Tom turned his attention up to meet unsure green eyes. He watched them soften some at the corners as he held the gaze. "I am looking for more information on horcruxes."

"Oh."

He watched Harry lift a hand to his jagged scar distractedly, and his gaze followed. The tall wizard swallowed softly, flexing and then clenching his right hand that rested under the table, his fingertips tingling. "Yes, you see, I believe we need to find a way to remove that."

"Because it's a piece of your soul," Harry said, his voice suddenly quiet, and he glanced around belatedly at the sensitive subject, grimacing slightly. "I mean... Voldemort's. So that's how he did all that?" His voice grew even softer, almost a whisper. "By storing his soul in things... people? So he couldn't die?"

Tom pressed his lips together between his teeth, considering his answer carefully, his pulse picking up subtly. He gave a slight nod, and his gaze sharpened. "Yes, it's the only explanation. The ideal situation would be to arrive at a time when he is not"—he paused, choosing his next word deliberately—" _present_. Then we focus on the horcruxes, collecting them, destroying them... and if anyone tries to stop us, I have the advantage of being the very person they follow."

Harry frowned, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms. "You're planning to pretend to be Voldemort?"

Tom blinked once, grey eyes blank. "If the need arises, yes."

Harry exhaled heavily, studying the floor. He couldn't help but think this was a terrible plan, but then, he'd never really been one for planning, and Tom was an exceptional one, clearly... The wizard's frown deepened, and he struggled to maintain the belief he was doing the right thing.

"Avery will be here in an hour, perhaps we should break until then."

Harry glanced up to see Tom standing, his wand out. The tall wizard stacked all the books they'd gotten out into a neat pile before murmuring another quiet incantation that made a golden rope appear around them, glowing vibrantly before disappearing. "Binding charm," Tom offered along with a small smile, his posturing suddenly more relaxed. "Come Harry, are you hungry?"

Harry blinked a few times, and then he found himself standing. He cleared his throat, and he ran a hand roughly through mussed pitch-black locks as he let out a calming breath. "Yeah, I am actually, are you?"

Harry looked up when he received no response to find Tom standing directly in front of him, his gaze trained on him solely. He felt the ghost of a shiver trickle down his spine as he looked into unfathomably dark, grey eyes up close.

"I'm famished," Tom said, and the dark-haired wizard shifted closer. He raised his right hand, and touched the wizard's cheek lightly with only his fingertips. "Harry," he said, waiting for green eyes to focus on him before continuing slowly, "I know you must be feeling very... _conflicted_ right now."

Harry's chin dipped, and the wizard nodded hesitantly.

Tom used his thumb to gently press the wizard's chin back up, his chest growing tight and thoughts darkening. "You must know, I have no intent or desire to hurt you in any way. I trust you," he said, pausing to gather himself when his chest grew tighter at the last few words, "and you must trust me in return."

Harry said nothing, letting the silence stretch between them, but then he looked up, and he gave another small nod. "Okay."

Tom felt his lips curl, and he leaned down, hovering just over Harry's. "Thank you, Harry, that means a lot to me."

Harry nodded imperceptibly, and then he felt Tom's lips press to his in a simple gesture before the wizard pulled back. He stood there, unsure of what to say.

"We should go," Tom said, motioning with a slight tilt of his head towards the exit. "Are you coming...?"

Harry found himself walking alongside Tom.

 


	40. Chapter 40

Tom sat at the edge of the astronomy tower, grey eyes focused on the engulfing darkness below. He and Harry had eaten and were now seated side-by-side on the ledge of the high tower. His familiar was wrapped around his right ankle somewhat loosely, sleeping, his long legs hanging over the edge. He bit down on his lower lip gently when he felt the urge to sway his feet, refraining. "I never knew companionship until Nagini," he spoke up quietly, breaking the silence that had creeped up on them, "she is the only family I have."

"I didn't have anyone until Hogwarts," Harry replied, matching his tone, "I have two good friends, and I had my godfather—for a short time. He was like family, but he's... he's gone now."

The tall Slytherin said nothing, clenching his jaw, as he silently acknowledged yet another person he'd taken from Harry. He let his mind drift back to the only memory he had of his own family, and his lips twitched upward even as his chest grew stiff, filling with a swelling, noxious emotion. He embraced it, like he always had so it didn't overtake him, so it didn't suffocate him, letting it stretch out into his muscles, tingling and clawing at them; but he didn't let it escape.

Grey eyes slid shut. Perhaps it was what had ultimately driven him to madness...

"I killed my own father, you know that," Tom said, stretching his head to one side in agitation and letting his fingernails scrape into weathered grey stones as he allowed the slightest bit out.

"Yes... I know."

Tom felt an exhale escape him unbidden when a hand touched his arm lightly in what he was sure was meant to be a _soothing_ gesture. He forced his eyes open and up, studying the cold night sky above when he felt the overwhelming urge to lash out violently at the wizard by his side, his jaw flexing over and over. "I can't _save_ your family for you," he said more sharply.

Harry said nothing to that, his hand staying.

Tom closed his eyes once more and gritted his teeth, holding himself completely still. It _wasn't_ helping, it was only getting worse. _So much worse_. What if Harry was just using him? What if he only wanted to dispose of him when the opportunity arose like everyone else? He dug harder into cold stone, his nails chipping and the skin underneath stinging against the rough ground, distracting him. "I am not a good person, Harry," he hissed between clenched teeth, struggling. "Do not be mistaken."

Harry shifted closer, his hand releasing his arm carefully. "Yeah, well, neither am I sometimes," he said, his low voice suddenly softer.

Tom turned his head just enough to view the wizard out of the lower corner of his vision.

"No one is all good," Harry added, and then he paused for a few beats, appearing to struggle. "My godfather, he told me once, that we've all both light and dark inside us, it's the part we choose to act on that's important, that that's who we truly are."

Tom studied the wizard for a moment. "And what if there is no light? Because I can only ever remember dark, all I see, all I _feel_ , Harry... is dark. _Absolute darkness_."

Harry looked down at that, and Tom thought he wasn't going to answer. He spoke up though, his words sounding pained, "It doesn't mean it's not there, it just means you haven't found it yet. Some of us have to look harder than others, some of us need others to see it in us."

The wild-haired wizard looked up then, green eyes unsure with some emotion as they met stony grey orbs. "I'm sorry, how I've been acting since I regained my memories. It's been a lot to deal with..."

Tom blinked once. "There is no need to apologize," he said, even as a feeling began to swell defiantly in his chest. He waited for it to subside before continuing slowly, "It is I, who owes you, an apology." He leaned in towards the wild-haired wizard, who he'd begun to crave, stopping just shy of his lips to whisper, "I shadowed your life with the presence of mine, and I am truly sorry for that."

Harry closed his eyes tightly, not moving away as they shared the cool night air between them. He hesitated, his chest aching. "And the others... all the others you hurt?"

"I cannot feel _sorry_ for those I do not care for," Tom said, agitation crawling in his throat and making his smooth voice unsteady, "but I do not wish to be the person I saw in your memories. I will _never_ be Voldemort."

Tom wet his lower lip just barely when Harry said nothing in response. He let out a soft puff of air, and Harry shivered at the feeling of the wizard's cool breath ghosting across his lips. "Will you stay with me tonight, Harry?" he asked.

Harry met the wizard's gaze. "I'll think about it."

* * *

Harry looked over to Avery on his left, Tom across from them as they sat once more at the farthest table in the library. A silencing charm and disillusionment charm had been cast over it. The library was dead at the late hour, except for the random floating book returning to its spot.

"What is it you needed to talk about?" Avery asked Tom, leaning back in his chair, his expression cautiously curious. He glanced over to Harry but then immediately back to Tom.

The tall Slytherin spoke, his voice even, enunciating each word, "Harry has recovered the majority of his memory."

Avery let out a surprised breath, and he turned to Harry to gauge his expression before responding. Dark blond brows knitting together, he focused back on Tom after a moment's hesitation. "What's the problem...?"

Tom clenched his jaw, grey eyes flashing darkly. He spoke the words that had been shadowing his thoughts ever since he'd found out. "It would seem, Harry and I are meant to kill each other."

Avery's blue eyes widened at that. "I see..."

"Yes." Tom pressed his lips together tightly then, Harry obviously waiting to allow him to explain further. "I lose control, Avery," he said point blank, and he stared straight into his best friend's increasingly understanding gaze. "Completely."

"Tom..." Avery shifted in his chair. He reached a hand out towards the wizard but stopped short, curling his fingers into his palm instead. He pulled it back slowly as he said, "I'm so sorry... what caused it... I mean — was there something to elicit it?"

"I don't know," Tom said, his tone more quiet, "as far as I know... no."

Avery blinked a few times, his eyes looking watery, and Tom looked away. "How bad is it?"

"Bad enough you're not alive in Harry's world."

Avery nodded jerkily at that. "Right. Of course." The blond avoided Harry's worried gaze. He rubbed at the corners of his eyes with his thumb and middle finger, swiping away moisture discreetly, before running his hand up into his hair roughly. "What is it you need from me?"

"Your help. We plan to go to Harry's time and stop my future self."

Avery paused at that. "And you can do that...?" he asked, and then, more carefully, "You _want_... to do that?"

Tom kept his lips from twitching. "I'm not certain, theoretically it is possible," he said, grey eyes cool as he ignored the second question. "There are no guarantees."

Avery gave a slow nod, the blond working to process the situation. "And you're sure we need to..."

"Stop me," Tom said curtly for him, anger flaring in his chest. "Yes, I am quite certain I need to be _stopped_ , Avery. _Permanently_. If it were as _simple_ as me not wanting it to happen, then we wouldn't be here having this conversation."

Avery grew quiet at that. "I suppose not." He looked over to Harry, and then he nodded ever so slightly, his expression growing more somber. "If that's what you want, Tom, I'll help you."

* * *

"Goodnight, Tom. Harry."

"G'night, Avery," Harry said back as the exhausted looking blond crawled onto his bed, pulling green curtains shut behind him silently. The dark-haired wizard pulled his sweatshirt and the shirt beneath off over his head. He dropped it onto his bed, scrubbing at wild, pitch-dark hair, and then began to undo his slacks. "So, Tom, about earlier," he said, his low voice quiet, unsure, "on the astronomy tower."

Harry glanced over his shoulder as he stepped out of his trousers to find the tall Slytherin turned away, wearing only a pair of black pajama pants as he pulled down the sheets of his bed, lean muscles flexing and stretching under flickering candlelight. Harry cleared his throat, and he straightened back up. "Yes."

The Slytherin heir turned piercing grey eyes on him.

Harry swallowed around a sudden lump, realizing what he'd just said, but he found he had no desire to take it back. "I mean, if you still want me to."

Tom nodded slightly, his expression unreadable. "I do."

Harry struggled internally, refusing to second guess himself, and then he forced uncooperative legs to function.

He stopped in front of the wizard, his heart beating too hard inside his chest as they stood together by Tom's bed. "Tom," he said, hoarse.

"Harry." The Slytherin lifted one dark brow. "Gryffindors first," he said with the hint of a smile.

Harry found himself grinning some back before he caught himself. He climbed in, facing the wall, and he felt his anxieties increase as curtains pulled shut behind him. He settled onto his side over cool sheets. Then the bed dipped behind him, Tom's larger frame moving up to fill it, the Slytherin pressing up against his back completely. What felt like lips tickled the back of his neck, and an arm wrapped around his chest.

Harry tried to breathe softly as his lungs grew more unsteady. He felt fingers flex ever so subtly over his ribcage. He closed his eyes and focused on relaxing. After all, they'd slept together just the night before, and nothing had happened. It would be fine—

"Harry," was murmured suddenly, cool air tickling the soft hairs on the wizard's neck.

Green eyes blinked a few times in rapid succession. "Yeah, Tom?"

"Can I kiss you?"

Harry felt all the air evacuate his lungs. He nodded, just barely. "Yeah." He felt lips then, on the nape of his neck, gently caressing it.

"Do you mind if I touch more of you?" was whispered.

Harry cursed mentally, but he forced out, "No."

The hand on his chest began to roam, sliding down to his waistline. It stopped and then slid back up his stomach and chest, wrapping around the front of his neck lightly. Harry tensed, but then the hand moved up just the slightest to guide his head around until cool lips were pressing to his. He began to kiss the wizard back, the hand around his throat flexing some but not uncomfortably; and he parted his lips as he turned to face the wizard more.

Hands grasped either side of his face, and lips began to move against his more heatedly as his stomach pressed up against Tom's fully, their lower bodies brushing through clothing.

"Harry... I want you _closer_ ," Tom said, and he grasped Harry's leg and hooked it over his hip so their lower bodies could find more friction. "Is this all right?"

Harry bit back a groan as the wizard rocked up against him. Then Harry was kissing Tom, their lower bodies sliding against each together in a way that had the wizard's eyes trying to roll back.

"Can I vanish them?" was asked breathily against Harry's chin.

Harry hesitated only for a second. "Yeah, yeah that's fine."

The wizard felt his boxers disappear, and there was only one layer of silky material between them then. Harry felt cool fingertips begin to trail a line down the center of his back, but it stopped to trace the small lower dip of his spine over and over just above his hips.

"Can I have you again, Harry?" was asked tightly.

Harry blinked in the near darkness, Tom's features barely visible. His grey eyes looked almost black, his lips a tinged crimson. Harry tried to think clearly. Lips met his gently, and a tongue slipped in to caress his, whisper light fingertips palpated his neck carefully. Tom's lower body pressed up against Harry's and then slid back down so slowly he could make out the wizard's hardened body part perfectly. He let out a soft groan, his thoughts feeling like mush. "Okay, you — you can have me."

Tom pressed his lips to Harry's cheek before whispering in his ear, his smooth voice notably roughened, "Thank you, Harry."

Then Harry suddenly felt silky skin against silky skin, and he pressed his hand on Tom's chest to brace himself for what was to come. "Can I hug you, Tom?" he blurted when Tom's hand began to slip between his legs. He felt more nervous than he had their first time.

There was silence. Then Tom's hand took his and placed it around his neck, holding it in place firmly for a few beats. "Try to keep it like that."

Harry nodded, and then Tom's lips were once more moving hungrily against his, and a hand was slipping down between his legs. Fingers began to probe gently, waiting, and Harry nodded again; and then he moaned into the wizard's mouth as they began to tease his entrance.

Harry was panting when Tom finally slipped out his fingers, and then he grasped Harry's hips, cocking them forward as he shifted his larger body down some, hissing an incantation under his breath. The wizard felt Tom begin to press up, his blunt tip warm and slick between his legs. Then green eyes slipped shut at the overwhelming sensation as Tom slid inside him. " _Ah-h_..."

Hips moved slowly, rolling up against him, and Harry cursed as he tried to adjust.

A hand grasped his hip, and Tom began to press his lips down Harry's neck. "I don't want to _hurt_ you, _relax_..." Then the hand on Harry's hip slid inward, until it was tracing gently over his flagging member.

Harry felt a groan rumble in his chest as he began to harden, the hand around him stroking along with gentle but persistent rolling hips. Harry could feel the wizard's larger body all around him, inside of him, and he wanted more. "Tom," he breathed. Lips pressed to his in response. "Tom, I, I"—Harry paused, his mind suddenly wide awake—"Tom, I love you."

* * *

Tom shifted so he was overtop the wizard, his hands digging into wrinkled sheets on either side of wild raven hair as a certain word rung harshly in his mind. He glared down into unsure emerald orbs, and he began to thrust deeper, gritting his teeth as he focused to keep his body under control, pale fingers clenching around material that was too cool and not the right texture.

"I'm sorry," Harry gasped, dropping his hand and arching his lower back when Tom began to take up a painful rhythm. He bit down on his lower lip hard, holding in a pained groan. His gaze unfocusing, the discomfort mixed with a needy pleasure, and he began to suck in a sharp breath with each thrust. "It's—it's okay, Tom," he said choppily, barely able to think as his lower body began to heat up.

Tom dipped down, his lower body pressing Harry between their stomachs firmly, and he snarled when the wizard groaned at the contact. "Don't _tell_ me how to _feel_ ," he hissed, his chest filling with hot pressure, his lips twitching, "I am not someone to be placated."

Harry nodded, just barely, his body refusing to calm down despite the wizard wanting it to so he could think more clearly. He felt Tom's lips begin to ghost along his cheek, and he fought the urge to flinch away from the somehow unnerving contact.

"Are you _uncomfortable, Harry_?" was whispered into his ear.

Harry felt his chest shake as he tried to exhale. "I can't take it back," he said, and he felt teeth scrape the delicate area of skin where his jaw, neck and ear met. He shivered when his skin tingled. "I won't hurt you, and I won't abandon you."

Tom exhaled softly on the wizard's throat. His gaze trained on a madly jumping pulse, his hands began to shake ever so subtly. "We can't love that which we fear, Harry," he said, and he leaned back, slipping out, not listening to what the wizard said as he drew further into himself. He heard voices, quiet at first but they began to sharpen, hardening as they cleared. "Don't _ever_ say that again to me," he said, his lips feeling cold, and he fixed the waist of his suddenly reappeared sleep pants before slipping between parted curtains, needing to get away before he lost all control.

The door shut behind him, and he stood inside the washroom, grey eyes glazing over as Tom pressed hands to the sides of his head, trying to silence it. His chest jerked with each exhale, a cold sweat creeped up his exposed back and over his shoulders and neck.

The tall Slytherin clenched almost black eyes shut, and he heard pipes begin to creak threateningly. He would kill him, he could kill him, if he was careful. He _needed_ to _kill_ him. He was lying. He didn't mean it. He couldn't mean it, no one could—

"Tom...?" His name barely a whisper.

Tom swung around, his right hand up and ready, magic burning his fingertips.

"Tom, it's just me, Avery."

Tom found himself looking into cautious blue eyes. His best friend stood before him, his hands empty and held up in a defenseless posture. He narrowed dark grey eyes, his lips curling as something twisted deep inside his chest. "You should go."

"I will, I just... wanted to see if you needed something first."

Tom blinked once, and then his lips curled even further.

* * *

Harry woke slowly. The sound of quill scraping across parchment infiltrated his senses first, then the smell of tea. He rolled from his stomach onto his side, and green eyes opened with a burning protest.

"Morning, Harry." Avery sat at his desk, scribbling away, a cup of steaming tea sat unattended at its edge. "Did you get enough sleep?"

Harry frowned. He glanced around the room, his search stopping at Tom's bed, which was already made up, curtains tied back neatly. He'd left the wizard's bed for his after Tom hadn't come right back. "Morning..." He rubbed at sore eyes. He couldn't remember falling asleep though. The scratching stopped, and Harry listened to the sound of Avery folding the piece of parchment he'd been working on. "Did you just wake up?" he asked, distractedly.

"No, I've been up for almost an hour."

Harry frowned when the wizard didn't offer anything more. He opened his eyes back and sat up, rubbing at his bare chest as he struggled to wake.

"Long night?" was asked politely.

Harry felt a frown pull at his features. "Ah, I guess so..." He stood up, his legs feeling extra weak for some reason, but he ignored it as he made his way to his trunk. He crouched down, flipping open the lid, and he searched through it drowsily not able to clear the fog hovering thickly around his thoughts. "Where's Tom?" he asked, pulling out a pair of slacks and a sweater so he could forgo the striped green tie. He looked up when his question was met with silence.

Avery sipped at his tea. He set it down before turning to face Harry with a closed-mouth smile. "He's a meeting with Professor Slughorn, he said for you and I to go ahead to breakfast without him."

Harry paused at pulling his sweater down, green eyes turning up in surprise. "Oh."

Avery lifted blond brows, blue eyes growing more animated. "Don't worry, Harry, he'll join us after I'm sure."

Harry smoothed down the black sweater, something in the wizard's tone agitating him. He ruffled wild hair and then sat on the edge of his bed to pull on black shoes, brushing it off. He was being sensitive was all. He admittedly felt off after confessing his feelings not only to Tom but to himself too, because it had been quite the surprise. The wizard's response hadn't been though, unfortunately. He grimaced down at his right shoe as he pulled laces tight. He needed to talk to him. "I think I'll just go to the library, I'm not that hungry," he lied.

"Of course, would you like me to join you?"

Harry glanced back up. "Uh, no, you should eat, I'll be fine." He watched the blond nod stiffly at that, and the uncomfortable feeling came back but stronger. "Are you feeling okay, Avery...?"

Avery stood, he flashed Harry a sheepish smile. "Yeah, just dealing with a lot lately." He placed the folded parchment in his pocket, adjusting his thin green and silver tie so that it lay perfectly. "I've enjoyed your company, Harry, I'll be sad if it has to end at some point."

Pitch dark brows furrowed, and Harry nodded. "Yeah. Same here, Avery." Then Harry gave a distracted wave when the blond Slytherin said his goodbye as he left their dorm.

* * *

"A _horcrux_ ," Tom said, agitated over repeating himself, while focusing on the awkward wizard intently to distract him from the taboo subject. He gave an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Professor, I only ask, because I feel I can trust you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For clarification, because I have caused some confusion elsewhere, Tom did not cheat in this chapter. Something else is going on.


	41. Chapter 41

"If a wizard were a... horcrux...?" Slughorn paused, again, his expression unsure as he stared into an unlit fireplace. "This is _dark_ magic, Tom, _very dark indeed_ , I don't know how this could be relevant to any of your current studies."

Tom swallowed, his jaw clenching hard, and he gave a tight smile when watery eyes turned up to him with a worried expression. He kept his hands relaxed on the armrests where they rested. He listened to a clock tick once, twice, three times. "You caught me"—pitch dark brows arched, and he didn't blink—"it's not for school."

"But..." The portly professor seemed more confused.

"It's something _extra_ I've been researching in my free time," Tom said, slowly, watching for the response he drew. He averted his gaze and spoke more softly when the wizard only grew more alarmed, "You see... I've been thinking about how one might... _remove_ such a curse with potions, seeing as how objects are merely destroyed, but I couldn't find if there were any known cases of wizards being inflicted with that _particular_ curse."

" _Oh_!" Tom kept lips from twitching. " _Oh_ , you want to find a remedy, well that is _different_ , very different indeed! Why, what an _excellent_ idea, a potion for such a thing would make for a _great_ addition to the magical community."

Tom blinked once. "Yes, and have you heard of such a case, Professor?" he pressed. "From what I've gathered, the curse, and the attached piece of soul, could be placed in anything."

Slughorn hummed in thought, and he walked over to his desk, leaving Tom over by his fireplace and sitting area. "I do not believe I've heard of such a thing... though it does not mean it's never happened... if it has, the affected wizard was probably disposed of discreetly though."

Tom stared straight ahead, grey eyes hardening. When he spoke, he was careful, "Perhaps then it has never been documented, but my question"—he paused, checking to see if the older wizard was distracted—"if the wizard was _successfully_ split from the curse, and soul—but through potions as opposed through destructive forces—would the piece of soul be salvageable?" He waited.

"I suppose it might..."

Tom exhaled through his nose only the slightest bit. "Do you know where I could find information on that? Because if it isn't possible, the potion would not be as complicated, but I'd like to know before I get started."

"I think Flourish and Blotts may have something, you could owl them. Though, I should warn you, it may not be the most helpful. The study of soul health and vitality is considered by _many_ to be less of a subject than even Divination, they're all thought to be a little mad who study it..."

Tom stood up, and he turned to find his professor's expression one of curiosity. He adjusted his green and silver striped tie, his nostrils flared. "Just because something isn't understood well, does not make it any less real. If a soul can be split, stored, distorted, _destroyed_ , shouldn't it also be possible for one to be restored?"

"Yes, yes I suppose you're right..." The older wizard frowned, brows furrowed. "But what kind of ingredients would you use to do such a thing?"

Tom hesitated only a split second. "Extremely powerful ones, I believe." He flicked his gaze over to the ticking clock on the wall. "If you'll excuse me, Professor, I'm almost late for first period."

* * *

 

Tom stared at wet grey stones. Hot water cascaded down over the back of his head and neck, splashing off his shoulders and heating his back. Steam filled the air around him in a heavy fog. He needed to talk to Harry.

Grey eyes closed slowly, and the wizard swallowed softly, his mind twisting in protest at just the thought. He hadn't talked to him since the wizard had lied to him. Seven days.

It was obvious Harry was upset, angry now. He didn't care. He needed to talk to him though, about the potion.

How though. That was the question, because... every time he saw him, he wanted to kill him. _Every_ time he sat near him, spoke to anyone, looked at him, did _anything_ —he wanted to _kill_ him.

Tom swallowed again, his throat flexing in protest. He kept his breathing steady, the thick air coating his lungs, slightly suffocating. He kept his body still, he focused, glazed grey eyes trained on the stone wall before him even as the air grew heavier inside his chest. Control, he _needed_ to maintain control.

A draft skated across the tops of his feet just before he heard the door. Avery spoke, Harry answered, and they laughed. No one spoke to him. Good. He dipped his chin and exhaled silently, focusing on whiting out everything around him. He planted one hand on the slick wall, barely able to make out its outline.

"I'll see you later, Harry."

"Yeah... uh... okay, I'll be a while maybe..."

The door shut back with gusto, and Tom's shoulders tensed. Footsteps approached, and his hand slipped off the wall to ball into a tight fist when they ceased. He focused on the thundering sound of the shower.

"Is it okay if I join you?"

Tom flexed his jaw. "What do you think?" he asked, his words sounding too quiet, too rough, further away than they should.

Harry stepped in, and Tom turned his head. He could just make out the wizard as he stood just outside of the water's reach but inside the shower stall with him. "I think, probably not..."

"And yet." One wet brow lifted, grey eyes like ice. "Here you are."

Harry nodded, looking down and away, at one of the corners of the shower. "I'm sorry."

Tom turned some, the shower hitting his right bicep and side. He blinked, water droplets collecting on his eyelashes before slipping down his cheeks. He raised his chin to study the wizard through the thick steam. He had no clothes on, his hair was a complete mess, there were dark circles under his eyes, and his skin appeared pale. "Are you not feeling well?"

Harry scrubbed a hand over his hair, appearing uncomfortable. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm all right. Just a little under the weather."

Tom continued to study the wizard. "You should get some rest."

Harry looked up at him, his green eyes soft and unsure. Tom clenched his back teeth together. Then Harry took a small step forward, then another, until he was directly in front of him. "We need to talk, Tom," he said quietly but with a sudden sureness.

The tall Slytherin resisted taking a step back, his pulse spiking. "I don't have _anything_ to say to you," he hissed harshly.

Harry blinked rapidly. Then he nodded just barely. "All right. Then I just want to be with you."

Tom hid his surprise. Then he felt something touch his arm... " _Don't_." He glared down at the wizard as he gripped his hand inside his tightly. " _Don't ever touch me without my permission_." He released the wizard's hand then like it had burned him, and his throat grew unbearably tight.

"Tom... I'm _worried_ about you," Harry said, not reaching out again but not backing up either.

The tall wizard felt his lungs begin to shake, and his lips twitched, flashing white canines. "You should worry about yourself instead."

"Are you threatening me?" Harry asked, quietly.

Grey eyes narrowed. Tom shifted forward until he was almost touching the wizard. He dipped his chin to bring him closer, blood whooshing madly behind his ears. He could feel the wizard's magical aura pulsing. He smiled softly. "Do you think so poorly of me, Harry?"

Harry clenched his jaw, visibly tensing, and then the shower made a strange spraying noise and all vision was gone.

Tom reached out, his hand finding hot skin. "Are you angry with me?" he whispered, skating his palm up until he found a strong pulse under his thumb, his hand wrapping carefully around wet skin reflexively, and he tugged Harry closer in the blindness. His body bumped up against his, his lips brushed his chin. "Do you _hate_ me, Harry?"

"No, I don't hate you, you know that."

Tom felt his mind begin to slip, and his hand began to tremble around Harry's throat. "Then _why_ do you _lie_ to me?"

" _Tom_."

The tall wizard felt a hand touch the side of his face, and he let his head dip, until his forehead met the wizard's. "I _would_ kill you if I could," he whispered softly.

"Tom, you need—"

"Don't _lie_ to me, everyone _lies to me_."

Harry grasped the wizard's face with both hands, careful not to touch his hair or neck, feeling jagged breaths stop then start again without any indication. The hand on his throat began to shake like the wizard was fighting with himself. He reeled in his own anger, and the air between them thinned, the water thundering again and tempestuous grey eyes visible once more, staring into him. "I wouldn't lie to you, especially not about that," he said seriously, "I meant what I said, you don't have to reciprocate it, and I won't say it again if you'd rather I didn't. But I won't take it back."

Tom closed his eyes. "You're _misguided_ ," he breathed.

Harry blinked a few times, his chest twisting painfully on the wizard's behalf. "Maybe, but I've lost everyone I've ever loved"—Harry hesitated, his chest aching more sharply as he watched the tall wizard struggling, and his voice grew more rough—"and I know how I'd feel if anything ever happened to you... that's all I need to know."

Harry started to take a step back when the wizard didn't respond, but then he was suddenly pushed back and against the slick shower wall, air forced out of his lungs, lips bruising his in a heated kiss.


	42. Chapter 42

Harry sat at dinner the next day, pitch dark brows furrowed. The charmed ceiling above was a low hanging blanket of greys and blacks, a distant rumbling outside only reflected in a constant but dim flickering over the west side of the room where the Gryffindor tables resided. Harry took a bite from his plate idly, chewing without tasting, the feeling he'd forgotten something important unrelenting.

It'd started when he'd seen Dumbledore that morning in the corridor on his way to first period. The bearded professor had been walking alongside a tall, blond wizard, who had looked maybe mid-twenties and who, he'd swear, had stared at him out of the corners of his vision the entire time they were within view of each other. He felt like he knew him, like there was something fundamentally familiar about him—not pleasant per se, but definitely familiar—but he couldn't quite place him even with his memories intact.

"So, potions tonight?"

Harry felt a foot bump his beneath the table, and he looked up, his fork halfway to his mouth. He found Avery smiling somewhat beside him, and Tom across the table was seemingly engrossed in the book he'd received the day before via owl. He processed the question as his mind cleared. "Oh, potions?"

The blond by his side smiled more noticeably. "Yeah, wasn't that the plan?" He took a bite of food and glanced to Tom, waiting patiently for an answer from one of them.

Harry blinked a few times. "Yeah, I believe so," he said uninterested, then he blurted, "did you two see the wizard with Dumbledore this morning, before first?"

"Why?"

Harry and Avery both looked over in surprise. Tom had set his book down and was openly glaring at the former for some reason.

Harry straightened in his seat some in response, and he felt agitation crawl up his spine, tensing his shoulders. He persisted. "Did you? He seems familiar, but I can't place him."

Tom studied Harry for a long moment, his gaze penetrating, like he was searching for something specific. Then he abruptly leaned forward towards Harry, who mirrored the action with hesitance, and he said at a private level amongst the green-clad table, "He's a Malfoy. You should know him, he's from your time."

Harry puzzled at that. _Malfoy_. It definitely did feel like he should know him, he remembered the Malfoy family, Lucius, Narcissa...—then he realized—He shot a glance up towards the professors' table, searching in vain. "My time? We should talk to him then, maybe—"

"No."

Harry paused at that. He felt Avery lean back in his seat, leaving just him and Tom close. "What, but—"

"Under no circumstances should we talk to him," Tom said, his expression stoney. "If Dumbledore has, as it _seems_ , blocked him specifically from your memories there is a reason. We should leave it."

Harry started to disagree.

"We need to focus on safely removing the curse from you," Tom continued insistently, "and setting the time piece appropriately. Any more things, and we risk the chance of losing the open window we appear to have been granted. If he feels familiar—as you say—it's probably just a block, and nothing permanent."

Harry nodded slightly, a sigh heaving its way out unhappily. "I suppose, but I just think it's strange, shouldn't we at least find out if he has anything to do with all this?"

"No," Tom answered immediately, surprising Harry with his certainty, "because we already know that. If he's here, from your time, he does. It doesn't matter why. He hasn't approached you, he's keeping his distance, so you should return the courtesy."

Harry thought about that for a moment, unsure. "How do you know anything about him?"

"I spoke with him briefly," Tom said coolly, his expression hardening further, "when you were unconscious. You should forget about him, Harry, there's no time for distractions."

Harry leaned back, sitting upright in his seat once more, and he watched Tom do the same but a split-second slower. He nodded with a finality he didn't quite feel. "All right." The wizard's green gaze flicked around the hall suddenly restless, his food forgotten. "Should we go then, to the potions room?"

"If you two are ready," Tom said back, and Avery agreed as Harry stood up preemptively, feeling agitated.

The three wizards were out of the great hall and making their way to the closest stairway when Avery spoke up to fill the awkward silence. "So Tom, have you asked Harry to the ball this weekend yet?"

Harry's head jerked up in response, and he found Avery grinning slyly, Tom appearing mildly amused.

"No, I haven't believe it or not," Tom said simply, but then his grey eyes flicked over to meet Harry's wide green as they took the steps down to the dungeons side-by-side. He tilted his head slightly as they reached the bottom. "Do you dance, Harry?"

Harry blinked a few times, and he managed to keep walking despite feeling suddenly very uncoordinated. "I, uh... not well," he said honestly, earning him a laugh from Avery, who'd sped up to give them some privacy but clearly not enough. "Do, ah—well do you?" Harry asked, and he couldn't help the heat that creeped up around his collar when Tom smiled at him coyly.

"Tom is an _exceptional_ dancer, Harry," Avery called over his shoulder, his tone chiding, as he stopped, "don't let him lie to you."

Harry glanced back over to Tom with raised brows, but he was no longer looking at him, his gaze instead trained on Avery, who was working with his wand to unlock the potions room Slughorn had said they could use as much as they wanted. He tried to imagine the tall Slytherin dancing but came up short.

"I don't enjoy it," Tom answered vaguely just as they came to a stop, and then he shot Harry a side glance.

"Here we are," Avery said abruptly. He pushed the door open, and Harry walked in after him, followed closely by Tom.

The wild-haired wizard glanced around the room. It was at least three times as large as their usual potions room, but there was only one potions table, and it was double the normal size and was situated in the very center of the otherwise bare room. Cupboards ran along all the walls, filled with countless ingredients, and on the back wall there was a small wooden door that almost blended in with the surrounding cabinetry.

"Is this really Slughorn's personal lab?" Avery asked curiously.

Tom nodded silently as he began to search the shelves right away. "We need only six ingredients tonight. Why don't you fetch the cauldron from the back room, Avery."

Harry stood by the table, feeling useless. "Who've you danced with?" His words abrupt.

Tom paused for a second, but then he began to move along the walls, scanning them closely. "Are you jealous, Harry...?"

Harry opened his mouth to deny it angrily, but then he noticed the wizard's lips were slightly curled up. He was teasing him. Harry cleared his throat. "Just curious."

"No one of consequence," the tall Slytherin answered dryly as he picked up a blue-tinted glass jar to shake gently, watching the contents intently.

Avery walked back in, floating an impressive gold cauldron onto the table with ease. "So you're going to make a potion to remove the scar from Harry's head?"

"The curse associated with it," Tom said as he crouched down low to search through some exceptionally old-looking jars covered in spiderwebs, "the scar itself may remain, we will see."

Harry frowned somewhat. "And you've found a potion you think capable of that?" he asked, still hard pressed to believe a potion could do something so drastic.

Tom stood, turning around with just four containers. He strolled over, placing them beside the empty cauldron one-by-one in a neat line. "No, there isn't one."

Harry's confusion only grew. "But how then—"

"I'm going to make it myself," Tom said shortly. Then he held out his hand, to reveal two small crystal vials in his palm. "Take one, Harry."

Harry took one, and he held it up, noting it was empty. "What's it for?"

"Blood collection," Tom said, and then he raised his wand between them. "Do you mind?"

Harry eyed the wand cautiously, but then he nodded just barely, struggling somewhat to ignore all the bad memories he associated with said object. "If you need it."

Tom stepped closer. "Hold the mouth of it to your skin," he said quietly.

Harry swallowed around a lump as he pushed up the sleeve of his sweater, and he placed the opening of the crystal vial to the inside of his right forearm just below the crook of his elbow.

"All right, just a little pinprick," Tom murmured as he touched the tip of his wand to the bottom of the vial.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath, feeling like he'd been poked with a needle, and he watched as the crystal tube began to fill with his blood. He lifted it away carefully when it was almost full, and a cool, soothing feeling tingled over where he'd been bleeding.

Tom took it, his fingers grazing over Harry's, and then he held it up, studying it under the light for some reason. Harry cleared his throat softly after a few seconds. The tall wizard blinked and lowered it, placing it in line with the other containers on the table. Tom held up his wand again, but he pointed it at his own exposed forearm, and he hissed a word under his breath, drawing the tip of his wand towards the floor.

Harry saw a deep gash form over two inches long, and Tom held the vial up to it, letting his blood spill into it. Then he set it down too before grasping his arm, holding his hand over it firmly, applying pressure.

"Are you _okay_?" Harry said, alarmed, as he moved closer, wanting to help but not sure how. He watched crimson liquid sneak between pale fingers, running down the back of Tom's hand, coating it, as it continued to force its way out, and then he looked up to meet suddenly wired grey orbs up close.

"The caster's blood needs to be taken more violently, it should affect its reaction in the potion," Tom said quietly, his smooth voice having only the slightest tremor. "Avery, I can't heal this with my wand until we've finished. Get me a bandage from Slughorn's medicine cabinet."

Harry heard the door at the back of the room open and close quickly as he watched Tom's blood begin to drip to the floor at a concerning rate, almost a steady stream, pooling. He clenched his jaw. "You cut too deep."

"The deeper the better," Tom said, and he exhaled audibly between parted lips, dipping down to whisper roughly against Harry's clenched jaw, "I'm used to pain, Harry, don't worry about me."

Harry swallowed hard as lips grazed his jawline, conflicting feelings messing with his thoughts. "I don't like to see you hurt," he said tensely.

"You need to get used to it," Tom said back more softly, and he pressed into the side of Harry's face. "If you want to be a part of my life, there's been _much_ worse than this, I promise you."

Harry started to speak up, but a door creaked, and he felt Tom step back. He forced green eyes open, and he glanced over to see Avery walking towards them. He blinked rapidly and tried to clear his mind.

"Here, I think this will work," Avery said, sounding off, and he focused on Tom, who nodded just barely. He moved closer to him then, and Harry took a step back as the blond set to work on wrapping the wizard's bloody arm.

"If my blood doesn't react when it's added, you'll need to try drawing it for me instead. It'll need to be more significant," Tom said pointedly to his friend, who merely froze for a split-second before nodding tightly in response. Then he looked to an obviously distressed Harry, and what looked like a smile flitted across the tall wizard's red lips. "Are you eager to try one of my potions tonight, Harry?"

Harry blinked, and then a choked off laugh escaped him at the unexpected question. He scrubbed at wild hair and found himself smiling back thinly. "Will it taste like pumpkin juice?"

Tom's mouth pulled in a slight grimace as Avery ripped the tape, tugging at his arm in the process. "I'll do my best," he said, sounding less amused. He raised his wand then towards the ceiling, and an iridescent film began to slowly cover it, and then the walls, doors and floor, coating the room's borders completely before flashing brightly and disappearing. "Sealing charm," Tom said with an odd inflection, then he flexed his hand a few times experimentally, blood drying on it sticky, and his expression grew suddenly closed off, grey eyes sharpening. "All right, let us begin."


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VERY IMPORTANT 6/22: Ahh, I skipped two chapters when posting. I think I'm going to paste them in at the end of 39 and the beginning of 40. Yeah, going to go fix that right now. So sorry for the confusion, should probably read it... *face palms*

Dark grey eyes intently studied the simmering liquid before them.

It wasn't ready.

It was too thin, and it still needed to take on a darker metallic tint.

Tom clenched his jaw, holding in his displeasure. "It won't be ready tonight," he finally said, not looking up. His arm pulsed in a deep, numb tingling protest, and his chest constricted ever so subtly. He pressed his back teeth together and then swept his gaze over to an unsure Avery and Harry, who were sitting side-by-side and leaning against the wall, pinning his gaze on the latter. "It needs more time to homogenize before we can add the blood, I'll check on it in the morning before breakfast."

The tall Slytherin was the first out of the room, not waiting for his dormmates. He ignored the persistent throbbing in his forearm as he made his way down the darkened dungeon corridors after curfew; it would be fine until the morning. He ignored the wet feeling of his bandage.

He didn't slow as he hissed at the wall hiding the Slytherin rooms, and it opened with a low rumbling. Soon Tom stood inside the dorm. He nodded faintly to Avery's goodnight, the room dimly lit.

He felt Harry behind him. He began to unbutton his shirt, fingers shaking imperceptibly.

"Are you feeling okay, Tom?"

Grey eyes closed. Tom slid off his shirt, his left sleeve catching on the tape around his arm somewhat, and his lips twitched. He began to undo his slacks. "You can join me tonight if you'd like," he said instead, quiet. Then he stepped out of his trousers and slipped between green drapes and into his bed without another word.

A few moments later curtains rustled, and he felt Harry climb onto his bed, the room outside a mirrored pitch-black. Tom waited for the wizard to settle completely. The air inside his closed-off bed felt cooler on his exposed skin than the silky sheets beneath him as he shifted closer, something inside him agitated at the distance. He drew in a silent breath and then, with care, draped his injured arm around the wizard, the festering behind his ribcage soothed, and he felt Harry shift under him until he was facing him, his breath brushing Tom's collarbone.

The tall wizard tilted his chin back, focusing on keeping his thoughts quiet.

"Is your arm hurting?" Harry asked, his voice rough in its quietness.

Then Tom felt Harry fold in against him when he didn't respond, and he curled some around him in response, reflexive, a tight exhale escaping, his heart pounding angrily against his chest as the bandage grew ever wet against his flexed forearm. It wasn't Harry's fault, he'd done it to himself. He wet dry lips to speak. "It's fine," he managed.

Harry exhaled heavily, and Tom felt his lips pull back to expose white teeth in response to the sharp noise. "Do you think this will work? _The potion_?" he asked tersely.

"I wouldn't be working on it, if I didn't," Tom said between gritted teeth. He forced tense muscles to relax somewhat and held Harry close when he moved to pull away. He rested his chin on the top of his head, soft spiky hair poking his neck. "Are you _angry_ with me over something, Harry?" he whispered.

Harry said nothing at first, but then he shifted closer, fingertips grazing Tom's bare side in an unsure manner. "No, why? Are you angry with me...?"

Tom smiled in the complete darkness, staring hard at the nothingness before him, and he felt Harry's aura flex a few times like it was testing its integrity, pushing out against his. "If I was," he said more quietly, "we wouldn't be talking right now."

Harry laughed somewhat at that, relaxing, and his chest shook softly against Tom's. "I suppose not." Then the wizard pressed up against him more snugly, his body molding itself against Tom's as it softened, becoming more malleable, his touch without any demand. "You're warm," he murmured roughly, sounding pleased.

Tom began to run the back of his hand along Harry's cold bicep, enjoying the contrasting feeling against his hot skin. "Potions always makes me hot," he said quietly. He felt a cold nose burrow against his chest at the base of his throat, and he exhaled with restraint, fighting a sudden surge of unwanted violent emotions. He slid his tensed hand down to distract, trailing along a bare hip, then—"You're not dressed..."

He felt Harry smile against his collarbone.

"Sorry. Is that a problem...?"

Tom felt his own lips begin to curl then, and his hand drifted back... and down—grasping. He felt the wizard gasp into his chest, tense, but not move, and he wet his lips before saying smoothly, "Only if this is."

Harry laughed again, the sound thick and rough and warm and tight all at once. "It's not."

Tom hummed, pulling the wizard closer, and he felt his thoughts begin to drift the more they touched, his lower body beginning to move reflexively. "Do you mind this, Harry...?"

"No, it's — it's really nice," Harry said back, sounding affected, and then, "Tom, you can touch me however you want, you don't—you don't have to ask. I trust you."

The tall wizard blinked a few times, his view unchanging. " _Any_ way I want?" he asked, carefully.

Harry exhaled unsteadily. " _Yeah_."

Tom took a moment to let Harry take it back. He didn't.

His hand drifted down further and in, and he began to trace lightly over the wizard's entrance, listening to increasingly stilted breaths with each circle he trailed. He felt the air against the base of his neck continue to shorten. Then he tentatively curled his middle finger, just dipping inside, and received a low grunt, and Harry pressed back against it.

Tom began to pump gently. His pulse spiking as Harry groaned lowly in response, he silently cast a dim light charm to see.

He kept his breathing soft as he pressed his mouth gently to Harry's jaw when he tilted his head back, exposing his throat to him, and he continued to slowly slide his dry middle finger in and out, watching the quiet intensity coiling inside the wizard with fascination, his aura growing brighter. Harry had a bright aura, but at times it bordered blinding. When Tom's injured arm began to burn in protest, he slid his finger out carefully and then rolled onto his back. "I want you on top of me," he said quietly.

Harry nodded, hiding his surprise as he swung a leg over the wizard, just realizing he could see thanks to a dimly glowing green orb floating a few feet above them. He cautiously settled over the tall wizard's lower stomach, and hands guided him back until he was hovering over black boxers. He swallowed hard, his chest heaving softly as he lowered down, and his chin dropped.

Tom closed his eyes at the sensation of Harry on top of him, and he raised a hand to drag fingernails down the wizard's tone chest, eliciting a welcome hiss. "You feel _so_ _good_ to me, Harry," he whispered, and he let the wizard move against him how he wanted, something he'd never done before. He dug fingernails deeper into soft skin when his thoughts began to stray.

" _Fuck_ ," Harry gasped. He felt warm liquid begin to trail down his chest in a few places, but then Tom leaned up, his tongue catching it, stinging over freshly broken skin. Harry stared up at a tinted green ceiling as he felt himself begin to grow dizzy, and he realized he was breathing too hard.

"You taste _perfect_ , Harry..."

Harry gasped unintelligibly, and then he felt Tom sliding off his own boxers, and when he rocked back down it was skin against skin. He bit down on his lower lip, moving against Tom without anything separating them. "Can you—would you prep it?" he asked around uneven breaths.

Tom was slick instantly, and Harry shifted his body forward, and then slid back until—Harry cursed. Holding still, burning intensely at the sudden intrusion, he felt a hand wrap around him and begin to stroke, gently.

Harry groaned and pressed back more against the pain, embracing it. " _Tom_..."

"Just relax," Tom said against his chin, holding himself up on one hand, still stroking Harry. Harry nodded jerkily, letting out a tight breath. He pressed his mouth to Harry's softly and began to roll his hips up, sliding in further. "I appreciate you, Harry," he hissed against suddenly panting lips.

Emerald eyes closed, and Harry focused on the good feelings, the talented hand stroking him carefully, his heart pounding inside his chest like it wanted to escape as Tom's lips caressed his softly, Tom's gentle words echoing inside his mind with each inhale. Tom. Tom was good, Harry could feel it, he wanted to be good. He felt the wizard filling him inch by inch, and he leaned into the taller wizard's space, not able to feel close enough. "Can I touch you?" he asked, his voice rough.

Tom settled all the way inside Harry, grey eyes dipping lower and framed by thick black locks that were curled slightly at the ends. "You can touch me, Harry," he breathed.

Harry gasped when Tom slid out almost all the way only to push back in completely, bumping the spot inside him that made his entire body sing. He wrapped his arms around the taller wizard's neck and buried under his chin.

" _Harry_ ," Tom ground out, pushing up into the wizard harder over and over, and then — he felt a hand in his hair, and the light above them turned red.

"I'd never hurt you, Tom," Harry said, his words unsteady but certain, his touches the same, "I can stop."

Tom felt his thoughts begin to lighten, floating dangerously high, as fingers curled into his locks. "What if I kill everyone you care about again? Still then? You wouldn't want to hurt me then?"

Harry said nothing, his shoulders and upper back tensing.

" _What if_ "—Tom paused to jerk his hips hard, and he sneered, his jaw clenching—"what if I try to _kill you_ , Harry? What if that's my plan?"

Harry groaned, his body disagreeing with how it felt, and his thoughts taking a different turn as concern started to push to the forefront. "Tom—"

"I care about you, Harry," Tom said, surprising the wizard, his words growing more heated as he continued, "but I'm not someone to be trusted _blindly_ , I've been tainted, do you understand? I'm not anything like you."

Harry's chest ached, and he held the wizard more tightly against himself, ignoring the crawling tension beneath him. Fingers dug into his skin, punishing, and the wizard pushed into him too roughly. Harry's breath jerked from him violently. "I don't care, I trust you anyway," he hissed back in parseltongue, "always, Tom, I promise."

Tom felt something then, it was subtle, high in his chest, uncoiling, and he gradually relaxed his grip and softened his thrusts; and tumultuous grey eyes fell shut as his thoughts grew heavier but somehow even more unhinged. "You'll regret it some day," he promised softly, his words an answering hiss, "and I won't."

Harry hugged Tom close to him, refusing to acknowledge what he'd just said as his climax drew closer. The wizard thrusting into him at just the right angle, wild, messy pitch-black hair mixing in with silky, curled raven, pale skin pressed against ghostly porcelain, ragged breaths exchanged. Their magical auras flexed and stretched around the other's like they were trying to join, their bodies mimicking it or leading it, it was unclear. Harry felt a hand cup his face gently, a trembling thumb grazing his cheek as a deep red glistened down on the sheen covering his back, and then, he began to gasp the wizard's name as he slowly came undone, Tom whispering his in return, everything else not mattering at that moment.


	44. Chapter 44

Harry woke with a start, his blood racing, heart pounding. He found himself staring up into watching grey eyes. Flying green curses and screams for him echoed in his sluggishly waking mind. He blinked a few times as he struggled to separate dream from reality; because it'd _all_ just been a dream, all of it, right—his skin clammy, prickled with too much sensation—no, no, a nightmare. Not real though. He finally exhaled the trapped air from his lungs unsteadily before trying his voice. "Tom... you're up," he croaked.

"Yes..." Tom adjusted his tie, discretely favoring his injured arm as he looked down at a visibly upset Harry lying on his bed. He'd begun to toss and mumble in his sleep, so he'd sent the wizard a light waking charm after only a slight hesitation. "I need to check the potion before breakfast, remember?"

"Oh uh — _yeah_ the potion," Harry said, not sounding much more calm, as he pushed himself upright, glancing around the dim room, "you, uh, d'you mind if I come with you?"

"No," Tom said succinctly with one last tug on his green tie, "that'd be preferable, assuming it's ready." He watched the wizard then nod slightly at that and climb off his bed without anything else to add, and he noticed his muscles shaking ever so slightly with effort like he was exhausted from sleeping. Though, he'd gotten a slight glimpse of what had upset Harry so thoroughly, so it wasn't so surprising...

Tom stayed facing his bed as Harry walked over to his own bed and trunk. Dark grey eyes scanned wrinkled bed sheets, and red lips twitched. He knew they probably smelled like Harry after he'd slept on them all night, sweated on them... Lips pressed together in a tight straight line.

"Should we wake Avery?"

Tom raised his wand and sent a cleaning charm at the bedding before making it up neatly with a slight twist of his wrist. "No, he isn't needed for the potion," he said dryly, then more quietly as he carefully tucked his wand into his sleeve, "bad dream?"

Harry didn't respond immediately, and when he did he sounded aloof. "I don't remember."

Tom cleared his throat silently and turned around to find Harry already in a pair of tan slacks and pulling a knitted black sweater over his head. He met bright green eyes beneath a messy dark fringe, noting a hesitance in them that was not wholly unexpected. "You don't have to tell me, Harry, I was only expressing concern... my apologies."

Harry exhaled loudly at that, and he scrubbed at his hair in agitation, gaze dropping to the dark floor as he tried to _not_ picture his dead body and Tom's wand pointed at it, smoking a deadly green in the aftermath. He knew it was just a dream, but the fact that he'd had it almost certainly because of what Tom himself had said to him before he'd fallen asleep wasn't exactly comforting... "I'd rather not remember it," he forced out more honestly, his jaw flexed.

Tom moved towards the wizard and cupped the side of his face carefully. He drew in a silent breath, and his thumb grazed along Harry's jaw. "I could remove it, if you'd like," he said lowly.

Green eyes turned up, pitch dark brows furrowed. "Remove it? Is that a good idea...?"

Tom's lips turned up slightly on one side, the sentiment flickering through dark grey eyes for only a split-second before disappearing. "If you believe making one feel better is a good idea."

Harry exhaled an amused breath at the somewhat teasing words, and then he nodded unsurely at first but it grew more certain as he said roughly, "Yeah, uh, yeah okay, thanks—thanks, Tom."

"You're welcome, Harry," was murmured, "now just _relax_ , and it'll be gone before you know it..."

* * *

 

Harry sat on the floor, legs bent, the back of his head pressed against the cold dungeon wall. Nagini was wrapped snugly around his left leg, her triangular head resting atop his knee. He watched with a budding apprehension as Tom continued to peer intently into the bubbling cauldron.

"I think it's ready," Tom said rather abruptly, and he reached for one of the vials filled with blood. He raised it, grey eyes focusing with a sudden intensity, and he poured it in slowly, a single string of black crimson. He watched, and Harry leaned forward. " _Yes_..." the tall wizard hissed under his breath, fingertips scanning blindly for the second vial. "Harry, be _very_ still, no matter what happens..."

Harry tensed, his muscles freezing at the command, and he found he wanted to suddenly ask a lot of questions he hadn't bothered to that he really should have. Like how Tom thought the potion was going to work, why he'd asked him to bring the time turner he'd shown up with, and if he—

Tom took a small step back as a silver steam began to roll off the surface of the violently boiling potion, it glittered a deep graphite. "It's _working_ , Harry," he said, and the potion seemed to respond to the statement directly, the cloud of grey growing and curling down the sides of the oversized cauldron and then table. It began to crawl over the floor, towards the sitting wizard.

Harry watched with increasing dread. "Nagini, should she move?" he asked in a rush just as the steam reached the toes of his shoes.

"No, she's fine," Tom said distractedly, his gaze trained on the darkly glittering cloud growing around Harry's feet. "The potion won't hurt you so long as you don't fight it," he said quietly, "just keep your mind clear and give it what it searches for."

Harry swallowed around a lump and nodded jerkily as it felt like icy fingers began to climb up his legs. He heard Nagini hiss, and he shushed her softly, his eyes sliding shut as the unpleasant sensation reached his torso. He gritted his teeth, an odd rustling in his ears like whispers, and when what felt like the finger of a dementor traced up the side of his face to touch to the scar just above his eyebrow he didn't fight it. Even when it felt like it was slicing open his forehead, digging out a piece of himself, going deeper and _deeper_ , he worked on just replaying Tom's warning in his head.

Then — just when he thought it couldn't get any worse — it was gone.

Tom stood completely still as the cloud that had been surrounding Harry sunk back into itself, retracting, growing more opaque and blackening, small flashes of white crackling through it like lightning. He drew his right index into his palm around his wand, carefully beckoning it to him. It rose around him, and he let it sneak into his airways and fill his lungs, heavy and thick, suffocating. Then he _felt_ it, stinging inside his chest at first, then warmth, and satisfaction where there had been emptiness. His lips tugged up.

" _Tom_? Are you okay?"

Tom felt Nagini around his wrist, and he realized he was seated on the ground.

" _Tom_?"

Tom reached up, his fingers lacing into soft hair at the base of Harry's neck, and he tugged the wizard down closer. His lips pulled back to expose gleaming white teeth. He spoke tightly near the wizard's ear. "I'm fine, Harry, how do you feel?"

"Ah..." Harry blinked a few times, his hand touching to his dully aching forehead as he crouched over the wizard. He pulled it back when it was dry, and a small laugh escaped him, a feeling of lightness pervading his senses. "I feel — I feel _good_ ," he said incredulously.

"Excellent," Tom said with effort. He felt Nagini around his neck, and her nose nudged at the side of his throat. "I'm _fine_ ," he hissed. He let go of Harry to plant his free hand on the floor, and he pushed himself up, his vision shifting some unnaturally as pain shot up into his arm with renewed fervor. It was normal, to be expected, all of it, he reassured himself. He ignored whatever Harry was saying as he began to roll up his sleeve, exposing a soaked through bandage.

"Holy hell, Tom..."

Tom gritted his back teeth together, and he peeled off the bandage. He let it fall to the floor, and gripped his wand tightly as he held its tip up to the end of the cut, careful to keep it steady. He cleaned it hastily, then he began to knit the skin back together, until he was left with just a light pink line of skin. He exhaled through his nostrils as a hand gently shaking his shoulder finally caught his attention.

"Tom... are you all right?"

Tom looked down into worried emerald orbs. He blinked once, a coolness overtaking his thoughts protectively. "We should clean up now, Harry, breakfast has already started."


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I hope you guys like this.

"Something I should know?" Avery asked somewhat quietly, glancing over his shoulder as he walked beside an equally confused Harry. They'd left breakfast, Tom having not eaten or spoken the entire meal, and now they were trailing hesitantly behind the still silent Slytherin in the opposite direction of their classes.

Harry gave a slight shrug when Avery shot him a questioning look, and he frowned as Tom started down the stairs towards their dorm, his right hand trailing along the stone wall and body leaning into it, like he needed the support. The wild-haired wizard waited until they were dungeon level to say something. "Tom, _wait_."

Tom stopped. He turned back abruptly, his upper body tense, skin unusually pale, even for him, grey eyes beneath pitch-dark fringe impassive. "Something the matter, _Harry_?" he gritted out.

Harry stiffened at his tone, his shoulders squaring, and he took a step forward even as Avery took a slight one back. He'd been acting off ever since the potion, but he wasn't completely sure why yet. "Yeah, I'm worried about you."

Tom let out a clipped laugh at that, surprising the other two wizards. The odd sound echoed down the empty corridor harshly, and the tall Slytherin smiled at Harry, the expression unsettling and the opposite of warming. "My apologies, Harry..." he said, his voice breathy, and then he closed his eyes as he tilted his head to the right, stretching the muscles on the left side of his neck, appearing to struggle. He inhaled slowly after a few tense beats, his hands shaking noticeably, and then he opened grey eyes once more, an unfocused quality to them that seemed inherently wrong somehow. "Avery, inform our professors I won't be attending today."

Harry watched with growing concern as the tall wizard turned back away, his movements more sluggish and very deliberate, and he felt Avery's hand settle on his shoulder.

"We should give him some time alone, Harry," Avery whispered near his ear, _careful_ , "go to class, check on him later... it's best when he's ill. Tom can take care of himself."

Harry watched the entryway to the rooms close, Tom no longer visible. He thought back to every time he'd been unwell since he'd been there, for whatever reason, who'd been there for him. And then how the wizard hadn't said _anything_ about his cut even though he'd clearly been bleeding out. Harry's jaw clenched. "I'm going to check on him now, you can go to class," he said stubbornly. He pulled away from the blond and started after Tom, barely conscious of cautionary words shouted at his back.

Harry passed through the empty common room and down the stairs quickly, only slowing in the hallway as he reached their dorm room... the door ajar.

He edged it further open with care, peering inside, and green eyes widened like saucers. " _Tom_."

Harry rushed into the dorm and dropped to his knees on the floor beside Tom's bed. The tall Slytherin lying there on his side, eyes tightly closed, as he shook all over. "Tom, are you awake?" He touched the wizard's face, his skin cold and clammy, and he realized he was shivering. He reached over him and grabbed the blanket from his bed, pulling it down and covering him with it as he struggled over what to do next. "Tom, _listen_ , I'm going to run and get Madame—"

" _No_." Tom's eyes had opened, glassy, with a wild look in them. He grabbed Harry's arm when he moved to stand anyway, and he shook his head just barely. "No, I just need some _rest_ "—he spoke pointedly, his breathing audibly shallow—"I lost a lot of blood, but I've _already_ cast a replenishment charm. There's _nothing_ she can do for me now."

Harry grimaced, clenching his jaw. When fingers tightened their grip around his forearm he found himself nodding begrudgingly and exhaling heavily through his nostrils. "All right... well, let's get you on your bed then," he said quietly, and he offered out his hand, even though he thoroughly expected the wizard to refuse his help.

Tom turned his face into the floor somewhat, and then his hand slid down the wizard's arm and into his open palm.

Harry swallowed thickly as he closed his hand around Tom's icy one, and then he stood carefully, pulling the weakened wizard up with him and helping him into his bed. He leaned down and grabbed up his blanket off the floor as Tom rolled onto his side, shivering again. He covered him with care, and then he hovered there. He hesitated, unsure... "Tom?"

"What." The word breathed with agitation.

Harry blinked a few times. He figured if he asked Tom if he wanted him to stay he'd say no. He cleared his throat quietly, pushing through the uncertainty plaguing him. "Do you mind if, ah, I join you?"

"Do what you want."

Harry remained still for a few seconds, but then he quietly began to toe off his shoes and undo his tie. He wet dry lips, scrubbed at his hair and then with great care lowered onto the bed beside the shivering wizard. He stared at Tom's back, his head dipped forward, broad shoulders shaking... he looked so defenseless. Harry felt an ache deep inside twisting around his lungs. He shifted closer without thinking, his arm wrapping cautiously around Tom's chest as he rested his face against the taller wizard's back, trying to give him some of his heat. After a few minutes of silence he spoke up. "Avery's scared of you."

Tom exhaled unsteadily. " _Everyone_ is scared of me, Harry," he said tersely.

Harry felt the wizard's shaking begin to slow, his body not feeling quite as cold. He shifted forward some, pressing his body more snugly against Tom's warming one, and a strong emotion whirled inside his chest he couldn't quite identify as he lay there with the wizard, who was suffering now on his behalf. He'd hurt himself to try to help him, and he had, helped him that is; Harry felt better than he could ever remember. He couldn't believe it had actually worked, that the curse was gone, but then again... perhaps it shouldn't be so hard to believe, not considering who Tom had become in another life... in his life. Tom's words from the week before about not being able to love someone you feared refreshed itself in his mind, and the discomfort in his chest only grew. He tightened his hold around Tom, the action almost a hug. He knew what he was feeling. It was empathy. "I know how that is," he murmured finally, his voice rough with emotion, "it's lonely."

The wizard said nothing, and they remained silent after that, neither moving as they slowly found relaxation against the other. Harry felt Tom's breathing even out just as his thoughts began to drift, his mind escaping to the subconscious world.

* * *

 

Harry woke to lips on his. It was dark. Hands grasped his face to hold it steady, and he realized Tom was leaned over him. Kissing him.


	46. Chapter 46

Harry's hands lifted, his fingers finding Tom's white, sleep-wrinkled shirt to grab onto as their kiss deepened, his mouth opening, Tom's tongue slipping in as a muffled groan snuck around it.

He relaxed as pale hands slid down to settle on either side of his neck, only flexing lightly, shaking imperceptibly. The tall wizard lowered some until Harry found his knuckles being pressed firmly into his larger chest.

" _Harry_ ," Tom hissed, moving his mouth to rest at the corner of Harry's instead of pulling away completely, his words barely audible, "I want to believe I can trust you implicitly. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded somewhat, his heart pounding angrily in his throat as lips tickled his cheek. "You can, Tom, I promise."

"I need you to prove it..." Tom sounded almost pained, and his hands around Harry's neck shook harder but still didn't squeeze. "Can you do that for me?"

Harry clenched his eyes shut, struggling. He knew this was bad, but he didn't know exactly how to fix it. He exhaled softly. "How?"

The hands around his neck carefully slid down to the front of his shirt, and Harry felt his shirt begin to be unbuttoned with unsteady hands. Then cool fingertips were slipping inside, pushing his shirt open.

Harry opened his green eyes to watch as Tom sat leaned over him. Harry's breaths grew shallow, his pulse intensifying, as the wizard's hands trailed methodically down his exposed torso, piercing dark orbs watching with an unfathomably intense expression behind them. Then they stopped at his waistline, teasing sensitive skin just above.

"I'd never been attracted to someone, until you," Tom said in an eerily soft tone, not meeting Harry's gaze. Then he tugged gently at Harry's pants, and Harry nodded encouragingly, so he began to unbutton them, the wizard still fully dressed. "I don't think any of this happened by chance. Your arrival. Our... chemistry," he said, enunciating the last word with care.

Intense grey orbs met glazed emerald. "Do you?"

Harry exhaled jaggedly, just able to keep it silent. His head started to shake, but he stopped it. "I won't hurt anyone, Tom, if that's what you're going to ask. I _can't_."

Tom pulled his slacks down to his knees, and he turned his attention down to Harry's boxer-covered lower half. He shifted back some on the bed. "I would never ask—you to _do_ that, Harry," he said, his words taking on an odd cadence to them, but relief filled Harry's already too tight chest despite it all. Then the tall wizard leaned down, his hands settling on either side of Harry's hips, fingers burying in green sheets. Harry watched Tom wet his lips as he hovered just inches over his boxers. "Can I touch you, with my mouth?"

Harry exhaled, almost choking on the air in his lungs. He nodded jerkily, surprise making it difficult to think about anything beyond the simple question. "If, only... I mean—Yeah, if, if you'd like to."

Harry watched with rapt attention as Tom slowly leaned down over him, then he pressed his parted lips to the button of his boxers, and a groan slipped from Harry's lips. " _Tom_..."

"Do you know, what I _need_ from you, Harry?" The words murmured coolly against black boxers, the body part beneath tingling and filling with blood until it couldn't anymore.

Harry bit down on his lower lip hard, his body heating up too much for not even being directly touched yet. He clenched his eyes shut hard, trying to calm himself. "What do you need, Tom?" he asked breathily.

Tom scraped his teeth lightly over thin cotton in response, and Harry's hips did their best to lift off the bed, but a firm hand pushed them back down and held them there, fingertips digging into sensitive flesh. Tom spoke more coldly. " _Don't move_."

Harry blinked rapidly. He nodded quickly, flinching away from the wizard's somewhat painful grip, and Tom released it in response. "I'll do my best."

" _No_."

Harry's eyes widened, and he focused back down on Tom. The wizard's expression had darkened drastically, and Harry felt suddenly unsure.

"Can you not control yourself, Harry?" the wizard asked, icily. "Is it really that _difficult_ for you, or can you just not be _bothered_ to try that hard on my behalf?"

Harry held the wizard's stormy gaze, stubbornly not answering right away. But then guilt began to trickle in, finding a place deep inside his chest, the wizard's words getting to him. "I won't move," he said finally, his voice hoarse. Then he said, what he'd been thinking earlier. "Why do you want to"—he flicked his gaze down to his boxers intentionally—"you know, do this?"

Tom studied him then with an obvious air of caution. "Why did you comfort me earlier?"

Harry exhaled. "Because I wanted to, I mean, I wanted to help you feel better."

Tom blinked. "Do you think I have emotions, Harry?"

Harry hummed internally. "I do..." he said, hesitant.

"But?" Tom asked, curtly.

Harry grimaced.

"I do not _love_ anyone, Harry, I never have," Tom said softly, suddenly crawling up towards him, "I do _feel_ , though," he whispered as he levelled their gazes. "Do you want to know how I feel in regards to you?"

Harry felt like a knife had wedged itself in his chest, burning and stinging under his ribs, but he forced himself to nod.

Tom dipped his chin down closer, his next words slow but with a certainty that left no room for doubt. "I feel like if _anyone_ attempted to take you from me, I'd kill them. If anyone _thought_ about hurting you, I'd ruin their life. If someone tried to talk you into turning against me, I'd _destroy_ their entire world, turn it all to ash. Because I _want_ you, Harry, more than I've ever wanted _anything_. Do you _understand_?"

Harry felt like his heart was trying to break through his chest. He closed his eyes tightly when red lips gently grazed the corner of his mouth, his thoughts dizzying, eyes burning.

"Tom... Tom, I worry about you," he said honestly. A soft whisper of a laugh grazed Harry's cheek, and the wizard's heart only pounded harder. "Do you want me to be happy?" he asked then.

"If it's possible, yes," Tom answered smoothly. "I derive pleasure from your happiness."

Harry nodded faintly, and he wasn't sure if that was a good answer or not, technically. Then he asked, "What if I wanted to leave you?"

The wizard's body stilled above him, and Tom leaned in closer to whisper in his ear, "Do you want that?"

Harry felt goosebumps break out all over his body, and he wanted to say yes. He wanted to say it just to see the wizard's response... but he couldn't hurt him like that. He wouldn't lie just to test him. So he told him the truth. "No, I'll never want that."

Cool lips pressed to his ear, and Harry shivered as they began to make a pulsing trail down the side of his neck. Teeth came out when they reached his collarbone, and Harry gasped as they sunk into his left shoulder. " _Shit_."

Teeth held on longer, and Harry's breathing stuttered. Then they released, and Harry groaned, a cool tongue tracing over red skin. Harry struggled to get enough oxygen, and his head grew light-headed, his entire body tingling, and his boxers suddenly far too tight.

Lips moved down his chest, and Harry watched as pitch-black hair slipped further and further down, fingers grazing his sides as they pushed his boxers down, then lips were enveloping him, a muscular tongue stroking him, and the back of his head hit soft green as he held his lower body completely still.

Harry tried to breathe.


	47. Chapter 47

Harry stood at his potions table early Friday morning. Slughorn was at the front of the Slytherin and Gryffindor filled room, writing something on the board with his wand as he mumbled to himself rather loudly. Harry stared down at his book, trying to see where they were exactly. His stomach grumbled quietly, a gnawing feeling making it hard to concentrate despite his best efforts. He'd missed breakfast, because he'd been occupied with Tom...

"Hello, Harry."

Harry's head popped up, and he found himself looking, wide-eyed, into Huiliang Chang's soft, brown gaze. He scrubbed distractedly at his wild black hair. "Hm?" he asked, unaware.

"I, uh,"—she blushed prettily and looked down at tightly clasped hands—"just thought we might go together, tonight?"

Harry blinked immediately, and then he suddenly felt Tom's presence at his left side heavily. She was asking him to the ball, well... he thought so at least...

Harry slid his hand down to scratch uncomfortably at the side of his neck as he thought of the gentlest way to turn her down. He hadn't really spoken with the Gryffindor witch much since their unexpected kiss, but he'd thought she'd understood he wasn't—

"No." Tom offered for him after a few too many beats, flatly. "You see. He won't be _available_."

" _Oh_." The witch blushed an even deeper shade, and she seemed to step back then forward, wringing the tips of her fingers together, like she was struggling whether to leave or stay, or say something. "I'm—I'm so sorry, Tom, I didn't mean to offend you, I—I—"

"Yes, well you did anyway, _didn't_ you?" the wizard said scathingly, in an uncharacteristically heated way, his gaze the polar opposite of his words. "Harry and I are attending the ball together. You can tell your interested little friends that too."

Harry's jaw dropped, his pitch dark brows shooting up, and he looked over at the tall Slytherin in shock. He and Tom had never discussed keeping the exact nature of their relationship secret, but Harry had thoroughly assumed that it was—a secret, that is—if nothing else, because of how discreet Tom always was in public. And there was also the small fact that he'd never agreed to going to the ball... not that he'd been asked. Which brought him to, admittedly, the most pressing thought; did Tom actually want to go with him, to the ball, or did he just not want him to go with someone else, and if so—

"You're staring, Harry."

Harry blinked, and he took a slight step back, shifting his weight back onto his heels as he forced himself to look away from the aloof Slytherin. He noticed that Chang had walked off. Had he even responded to her? "Sorry..." he mumbled distractedly then, and he blinked again, just then realizing that he was on the receiving end of discreet but very inquiring glances from their classmates. He looked down at his potions book, the skin at the nape of his neck warming as he struggled to clear his throat.

"I hope I wasn't out of line." Tom stepped closer again as he looked down into their bubbling cauldron, his voice soft but somehow edged with a frostiness Harry hadn't heard directed at him for quite some time.

Then Harry felt Tom's side brush against his, his larger body warm and causing goosebumps to run up his forearms. Harry found himself looking up into close, guarded grey eyes. "No"—he cleared his throat again, the wizard's proximity not helping with his muddled thoughts—"I, uh, was just surprised is all," he said roughly, then he managed to get out, "you want to go with me? I mean. Tonight? You and I?"

Tom didn't answer right away, his gaze closing off as he seemed to consider Harry's question. Then he said, privately, but in an easier tone, "Would you do me the honor, Harry, of going with me to the ball?" His lips curled up slightly on one side afterward, his left dimple just showing, and Harry felt something tickling inside his chest.

He scratched roughly at the spot over his shirt. His heart. It was his heart. Damnit. Harry swore silently, and Tom's smile only seemed to grow. He nodded in a roundabout way, struggling to not make a huge fool of himself right there in front of everyone, but he was pretty sure his face was turning a nice shade of red as he struggled to keep it together. He wasn't sure why he was so affected by the rather simple question, especially after all he and Tom had been through, all they had done together, but his body didn't seem to agree with him, particularly not the persistent pounding organ behind his ribs. "Yeah—I mean— _yes_. Yes, that'd be nice. I'd like that, a lot," he finally got out.

Tom nodded faintly. "It's a date then."

 


	48. Chapter 48

Harry's fingers fumbled with the buttons of his green shirt. He was distracted. No, maybe nervous was a better word for it. He couldn't dance, he had two left feet, and he wasn't good at dates. He was rubbish at them. He was sure to spill something on himself or trip, or possibly both. Tom didn't seem like the type to do any of that. He was suave and charismatic, and a bloody good dancer, if Avery were to be believed—and he was certain he was...

" _Shit_."

"Can I come in?"

Harry's green eyes shot up, and the wizard nodded before getting out the hurried words, "Yeah, of course."

Avery strolled into the open bathroom, an easy smile teasing the corners of his mouth. The tall blond was dressed in a grey sweater and tan slacks. He leaned in towards a mirror to scrutinize himself. "Ball starts soon."

Harry choked a little on some air, and he worked harder on his buttons, still only halfway finished. "Yeah... have you seen Tom?"

Avery turned around at that, leaning back on the sink behind him casually. "He's a meeting with Slughorn, but he said to tell you he'd meet us there."

Harry stopped to look up, his dark brows furrowing. "Do you mean he's going to be late?"

Avery grinned wryly at that. "I'm shocked he's said he's coming at all," he said, his tone bordering agitated if Harry didn't know better, "it's not really his cup of tea, but I'm sure you know that..."

Harry frowned, a stubborn feeling rising in his chest. "He asked me to go."

Avery nodded at that, and he looked out the door and into their shared dorm, avoiding Harry's gaze. "That he did..."

Harry found the mental clarity to do up the last few buttons of his shirt, irritation darkening his features. "Is something bothering you, Avery?"

Avery continued to look out of the room. "A lot of things are bothering me right now, Harry, but you are not one of them."

Harry popped his collar and began to fiddle with his tie, waiting.

Avery shifted his gaze to the floor in front of his feet, and then he said in a barely audible voice, "He can't do this. Tom—he's, he's not boyfriend material, Harry, you're going to be disappointed tonight."

Harry folded his collar back down, and when worried blue eyes finally met his gaze he sighed through his nose. "If he doesn't show, I'll be fine, Avery."

The tall blond just stared at him like he didn't believe him the slightest bit.

"I will, it's fine," he insisted, despite the growing tightness in his chest, "you and I can just hang out if he doesn't show, right? We can set off dungbombs or something, I don't know."

Avery broke into a grin at that, and he let out a laugh. "We'd have to find some Gryffindors to pick them off of," he said, teasing.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe, we'll see," he said back gamely, feigning indifference. It was just a dance. He didn't even like dances, and if Tom didn't show it'd be fine. It didn't mean anything. He'd be fine. He was sure of it...

* * *

Harry stared down into a glass of foggy golden punch. There were tall, floating candles overhead, students of all years were dancing or laughing, or both, and the band playing sounded like a record Harry had heard before at Ron's house. Something Arthur had played when he was showing off his music collection to Harry.

A few Ravenclaw witches squeezed by him, one of them smiling at him shyly when he glanced up. He felt the tips of his ears grow hot, and he took a sip of his smoking drink distractedly.

"No, no, I really should check on Harry," Avery could be heard saying as he gently extricated himself from Alyse Greengrass, a witch Harry'd had minimal interactions with. Harry took another drink. Who was he kidding? He'd had minimal interactions with _everyone_ at the ball, witches and wizards, and for good reason. He didn't belong there, it wasn't his time; he needed to get back to his life. To Ron and Hermione and—

"Harry, Harry are you with me?"

Harry took another drink before nodding stiffly. He needed to piss. It'd been two hours, and he'd been drinking punch for the entire thing. He didn't want to say it was because he hoped it'd deter any witches from approaching him, but it was. Fortunately, it'd worked, that, or Tom was just that terrifying to his housemates... He huffed a sharp breath at the thought.

"What's the matter?"

Harry met Avery's gaze. "Nothing, I'm great. You can keep dancing, I don't mind." He took another drink. A smaller one, he was almost out again. It was possible it was spiked with something too, because he felt a little off.

Avery sighed, clearly glancing around the crowded hall for someone Harry didn't want to think about. So Tom wasn't going to show up, it was _fine_. "Would you like to dance with me, Harry?"

Harry paused, his cup hovering in front of parted lips. "What?"

Avery hesitated, and then he shifted closer and smiled at him, his demeanor opening up slightly, and Harry realized at that moment that Avery had always been tense around him. How had he missed that? "Dance with me," he said again, and he bit down on his lower lip in what almost looked like a nervous gesture. "Come on, it'll be more fun than drinking another cup of punch."

Harry frowned slightly, dark brows pinching together almost, and he struggled to turn him down. Avery was his closest friend at the moment, other than Tom, and he was tired of standing alone by the punch. Not to mention Huiliang had been eyeing him in an uncomfortable way for the last few minutes. "Yeah, okay, why not?" he said, hesitant.

Avery smiled widely at that and offered out his hand, and Harry placed his atop it.

He let Avery guide him into the crowd, wizards making space for them as the fast-paced music came to a stop. Then a slower one started, and when they reached a small open space of floor close to the stage, Avery turned to face him. He smiled somewhat as he situated one hand lightly on Harry's side and their clasped ones up by his chest. "I should warn you, slow dancing isn't my forte," Avery joked as he began to move Harry around the small space with ease, belying his words.

Harry cleared his throat, and he grimaced when he stomped on Avery's toes when he moved forward instead of backward. "Sorry."

"Not a problem, Harry," Avery said, leaning his head down some to make his words more clear. "It's better than a stiletto heel on them."

Harry laughed with a shake of his head. "Yeah, well, at least then I'd be a witch."

Avery hummed. "That's not actually important to me."

Harry looked up in surprise to find Avery grinning coyly. "I didn't know that."

His blond dormmate shrugged lightly as he continued to guide Harry on the floor, not missing a step. "My family has expectations for me, and I do my best to fulfill them."

"That's terrible," Harry blurted, and Avery laughed.

"Perhaps..." Avery allowed, and then he grew quiet, dancing with Harry as he glanced around in a seemingly casual manner.

"You're worried Tom will show up?" Harry asked.

Avery's left eye squinted up, but then his expression smoothed like it'd never happened. "I'm more worried he won't. I know you want him to make it."

Harry felt a swell of gratitude, mixed with concern on behalf of his friend. The music came to a stop, and he took a step back, releasing the wizard's hand. "Thanks for the dance, Avery, but I need to run to the loo." Harry grinned sheepishly. "I've had a little too much to drink."

Avery laughed, pushing his hands into his slacks' pockets, and he stepped closer to him to speak just as another song started up. "All right, I'm going to run to the dorm to grab some Firewhiskey since you pretty much finished off all the punch, but I'll be right back."

Harry grinned and walked off.

* * *

Tom walked silently down the empty corridor to the Slytherin rooms, not bothering to light the way. Nagini was wrapped tightly around his left forearm, under the black mockneck sweater he wore. It was late, but he could still hear the faint sound of music vibrating the floor above. He clenched his jaw in the dark, his hands curled into fists.

He stopped at the entryway, not speaking the password but instead he just stared coolly at the hidden entrance. Harry was probably waiting still at the ball. He ground his back teeth together, struggling for some reason. There was no reason to show up so late. He'd had more important things to do, and now that he was finished it didn't make sense to run to the dance hall just to try to appease a possibly upset Harry. Not to mention he'd understand once he explained why he didn't make it; it was unnecessary.

Tom refocused on the entryway and hissed the password.

* * *

"I think... I think there was something in the _punch_..."

Avery laughed at that. "I think you might be right... I'm surprised you handled it as well as you did." He patted a visibly down and drunk Harry on the back, an almost empty bottle of Firewhiskey in his other hand. The two Slytherins sat on the floor in the far back corner, leaning against the wall. "Cheer up, Harry, the night is almost through."

Harry hummed quietly, feeling worse for it. He nodded then, slowly, and he felt his throat tighten up on him involuntarily. "Yeah..." he mumbled, then, "you think Tom is in the dorm by now?"

Avery didn't answer right away. When he did, he sounded suddenly different, more alert, and something else. "I don't believe he is..."

Harry looked up at the odd words, a soft gasp guiding his eyes towards the doors, and he heard Avery swear colorfully under his breath. He watched in surprise as Tom walked through the crowd, wizards and witches moving out of the tall Slytherin's way as he made a path straight for him. Harry scrubbed at his hair, feeling slightly distressed and unprepared, and he acknowledged the wizard's presence in a sort of daze.

"Hello, Harry, I'm sorry I'm late," the wizard said shortly.

Harry nodded faintly, and he blinked to sort his thoughts as he looked up into piercing grey eyes that seemed to see right through him. He ignored whispers around him as he struggled to focus on more than just his heart beating loudly in his throat. "I thought you weren't coming," he managed.

Tom pressed his lips together, and he looked between Harry and Avery, his expression unreadable. "Is that why you're both inebriated?"

Harry felt himself laugh humorlessly, then his chest shook again, and he actually heard it. "Mine was an accident, and Avery just decided to join me, because he felt sorry for me."

Tom seemed to think that over, not appearing overly pleased with it. "You're upset with me. I shouldn't have come." He started to turn away.

Harry jumped up in a hurry, reaching out and grasping the wizard's arm from behind. "No, wait. I'm—I'm glad you did." He let go quickly when he noticed Tom's broad shoulders had tensed.

Tom turned back around slowly, his arm tingling unpleasantly where Harry had grabbed him, and he struggled to quiet his thoughts. He looked down at the wizard, his vivid green eyes glassy, only making it more difficult to calm down. He exhaled slowly, and he ignored curious gazes focused on him and Harry. He'd expected them. When he spoke again, he did so quietly and with no emotion. "I came for you, so I will stay if that's what you wish."

Harry nodded, looking suddenly flush. "Yeah, it is." Then he glanced out at the floor as a slow song began to play.

Tom wet his lower lip, and he dipped down to say near Harry's ear, "Would you care to dance with me, Harry?"

Harry cleared his throat softly, the whispered words sending a shiver down his spine. "Yeah, I would."


	49. Chapter 49

"Sorry." Harry lifted his foot off of Tom's... again.

Tom guided Harry more carefully. "If you relax, it's much easier."

Harry grimaced somewhat sheepishly. "I'm kinda pissed up."

Tom tilted his head slightly to one side. "Then it should be even easier to relax." His hand on Harry's side tightened to pull the wizard closer. "You look nice tonight."

Harry broke into a soft grin at that, as he simultaneously tried to focus and relax. "Thanks." He almost stepped on the wizard's toes again but caught himself when Tom tapped his side lightly to signal which way they were going. "So do you."

Tom blinked. "I won't lie to you, I almost didn't come tonight."

Harry nodded just barely. "Yeah, I know. I'm glad you did though."

Then Tom slowed his step some, his gaze intensifying like he was shifting his train of thought. He leaned down closer, his chest brushing Harry's, and his lips grazed the shell of his ear ever so lightly, tickling it as they did. "Harry... do you remember before... when I said you'd regret caring for me? It wasn't a threat, I was only being honest. I'm not what you want."

Harry swallowed hard, and he felt his eyes slide shut as Tom guided him smoothly to the relaxing music. He was starting to feel the taller wizard's natural rhythm, his gentle taps on his side and hand helping him know which way to go. Tom was a very good dancer, and Harry felt the wizard's freshly shaven cheek graze against his roughened one. "It'll be fine, we'll work it out," he said stubbornly, "we just won't attend a lot of balls."

Tom's lips curled up, and he turned his face into the side of Harry's, his lips trailing back towards his ear. "Do you think there won't be other problems?" he whispered softly.

"It doesn't matter, if you're willing to try, so am I." Harry wet suddenly dry lips as he waited for some kind of response. Hovering lips pressed to his neck, just below his ear, then teeth scraped the sensitive skin, and he wished they were somewhere more private for more than one reason. He saw out of the corner of his vision a rather large group of wizards watching them with looks of complete shock. "We seem to be, uh, drawing a lot of attention..."

"Of course we are," Tom murmured lowly, his hand on Harry's side sliding around to his back and pulling him even closer until their lower bodies were dangerously close, "Except for Dumbledore's, that is, he's giving us privacy at this very moment. So I should tell you, we can leave _tonight_ , Harry. I spoke with Slughorn, we're ready to go after this, and it might be our last chance. You have the time turner on you, don't you?"

Harry felt his heart skip a beat, and he somehow managed to keep dancing, and lips continued to tease his neck. He didn't know what to say. It was what he wanted, what needed to be done. It was for the best. At least, he hoped so. He glanced around the dark dance hall, searching. "What about Avery?"

Tom didn't answer immediately, and when he did he sounded tense. "He's ready too."

Harry nodded then, and he said quietly, "All right, let's do it." He felt curled up lips press once more to his neck, then Tom took a step back, putting space between them.

"To the dorm then?" Tom asked smoothly.

Harry nodded, and he forced himself not to search for Dumbledore in the crowded hall. He'd promised Tom. He nodded faintly. "Yeah, let's go," he said as evenly as he could manage.

Tom grasped Harry's hand and then started for the door, ignoring their schoolmates. When they were in the hall, the doors shut firmly behind them, he turned on his heel to face him. "The time turner, Harry."

Harry blinked, and he fumbled for the chain beneath his collar, managing to pull it out without unbuttoning it. He furrowed dark brows, glancing around, as music still played behind him, like nothing was wrong. "But Avery—"

"Isn't coming," Tom said coolly, "he's offered to stay behind to make sure things don't change for the worse here. May I see it?"

Harry's hand tightened around the time turner. " _What_? When did you decide this? I need to at least say goodbye then."

"He decided it," Tom said, his gaze darkening and his words stressing urgency, "he said it was for the best for everyone concerned, and Avery doesn't do goodbyes, _trust_ me. We need to go _now_ , Harry."

Harry stood silent for a few beats, then he cursed under his breath. "All right, here," he said, offering Tom the time turner hesitantly. "When did you figure out how to use it?"

Tom looked down at the golden artifact in his hand. He hissed an elongating charm on the chain and draped it around his neck too. Then he began to focus intently on the unusual magic embedded in the object. "I spoke with Slughorn... I believe it's magicked to heed my intentions," he murmured as he carefully manipulated the advanced spellwork with his own magic, growing more confident as it bent more and more eagerly to his will, almost like it had been waiting all this time for his direction, "we will find out soon." He envisioned a specific memory Harry had shared with him.

The doors to the hall burst open just then, Dumbledore standing before them, his wand raised. "Tom, _Harry, n_ —"

A familiar, bright blue light flashed inside Harry's head, his footing grew unsteady, and he felt himself begin to fall. But then strong hands caught him, and he found himself looking into Tom's dark grey eyes. He let out an unsteady breath as the world around them seemed to solidify. "Did... did it work?"

Before Tom could answer there was a sharp gasp behind the Slytherin, and then, "Harry, Harry is that _you_?!" was shouted.


	50. Chapter 50

"So... was this your plan all along then...?" Draco Malfoy sat stiffly, the platinum blond wizard looking like he'd just been forced to Avada someone close to him.

The wizard grimaced as his stomach knotted up treacherously, because he'd might as well have; Harry had left—with Riddle—and just an hour after he'd finally been given the go ahead to remove Harry from the perilous situation. And he'd gone to another time, one unknown to everyone. No one would know they were coming either, unless they could somehow figure out to what timeframe Tom would have taken them... because that was the worst part—Dumbledore said he was the one holding it.

Draco felt bile begin to rise in his throat.

"Mr. Malfoy, I do not believe Tom has _any_ ill will towards Mr. Potter—"

"Is that supposed to _comfort me_?!" Draco found himself standing, his once headmaster seated comfortably in his chair like everything wasn't ruined. He blinked a few times rapidly, and he started to calm down but then—" _No_ , no, you won't appease me, I cannot believe this is for the best. Harry is somewhere out there alone with _Voldemort, right now_ , and with no one there to help him! He's having a relationship with him too, you don't"—he paused, visibly struggling over his own words, because Harry and he had been _happy_ , not perfect, no, definitely not perfect, but they would have worked it out, everything could have been worked out in time, he was sure; he'd been so _stupid_ to think he could fix everything... and he'd used Harry to try to do it. And now he was _gone_ , maybe _forever_ , with Voldemort, and his and Harry's relationship—

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said lowly, standing finally and making it a little easier for Draco to calm down, because if only Dumbledore would take _action_. He trusted him. Everyone trusted him. "What is it you want from me?"

"To stop this, to bring Harry back, to stop _Riddle_." Draco slowed his breathing, his chest rising and falling too hard, and it hurt. He wasn't thinking clearly at all, but so many mistakes had been made, and he had suffered greatly for them—watching Harry and Tom grow _closer_ every day right in front of him—which was fine; he deserved it, deserved everything that'd happened, but Harry didn't. He didn't deserve _any_ of it. "Please Headmaster," he implored, "I know you're _capable_ of fixing this."

"I am not who you knew, Mr. Malfoy," the grey bearded professor said slowly, bright blue eyes twinkling sadly. "I have not yet become him, we are all a culmination of our experiences and memories. As such, Mr. Riddle and Mr. Potter are too becoming different people than you knew, every day—"

Draco had just been about to cut off his once headmaster, when the door opened behind them with a loud creak.

"Albus, you wanted to speak with me? Is everything all right...?" Professor Slughorn asked, his head and sizable upper body leaning into the Transfiguration professor's office.

Dumbledore sat back down, a gentle smile taking over his features as he dipped his chin to peer over thin reading glasses. He motioned the nervous potions professor inside. "Yes, yes Horace, please come in. I just have a few questions for you."

* * *

Tom stood inside a shower. Hot water ran in tendrils down his hands, then forearms, not cooling, and finally converged as they streamed in a clear blanket over his flexed shoulders. Steam filled his lungs, still invisible, but the air was thick in his throat. Black tile was like ice under his hands.

" _Who is this, Harry? Are you bloody_ **mental**?!"

Tumultuous grey orbs were clenched shut, and the tall wizard felt an unbearable buzzing inside his thoughts and chest, trying to expand into something louder, more violent, like a chained dragon trying to take off; like it wanted to claw up each rib, into his throat and force its way out. _No_. No he couldn't. What was _wrong_ with him? Everything had gone to plan. He and Harry were back at the time he'd planned. It was everything he'd wanted—yet...

The tall wizard bowed down slightly and wrapped his arms over soaked, thick black locks, and he didn't quite manage to hold in the growl growing inside his chest.

He needed to _do_ something, needed someone to spar. But he'd left Avery _behind_. He'd left him behind, because he known he'd die if he came, and Harry would have been _devastated_.

But now. Now he didn't know what to do, but he needed _something to quiet it all_.

"Tom...?"

The tall Slytherin gritted his teeth and tried to center his floating thoughts. His eyes burned, and his hands trembled even balled into fists, and he wanted to _kill_ someone. Maybe one of the wizards who'd looked at him like he was a _monster_. Yes. Maybe—

"Tom, are you all right?"

Tom blinked away water that had gotten into his eyes to focus on the wizard before him. "Harry..." he managed, just barely, his voice quiet and unusually tight.

The wizard's dark brows furrowed, and he glanced behind him into the empty bathroom at Twelve Grimmauld before looking back up at him. He said nothing, but he stepped inside the shower, still in his brash, red pajama pants. He let the red curtain fall shut—so much red—and he stared up at him, his exposed upper body slowly growing slick and gleaming as stray drops hit him.

Tom felt the fury inside him grow, and he ran a hand up over his dark grey eyes and into his hair, pushing it back with a hard blink, holding perfectly still for a few seconds as his thoughts skipped between wanting to attack the wizard and wanting to kiss him. Then he took in a jagged breath, and he grasped Harry by the back of the head and pulled him close, undecided. He felt fingertips on his bare stomach, like the wizard was trying to collect himself more so than trying to touch him, and he closed his eyes as he struggled to breathe.

He felt Harry's cheek on his chin, unsteady puffs of air on his neck, and he kept the wizard close, something inside of him uncoiling the slightest bit when Harry relaxed against him despite their awkward position. "They _hate_ me," he hissed finally.

Harry said nothing at first. But then, "I know. I. Thank you though. I. I can't thank you enough, Tom. Sirius... he's... he's _all_ I had, and I know you said you couldn't, that you couldn't save any of them, but... but. _Thank you_."

Tom nodded tightly, and he kept Harry close, his fingers tangling in wild black hair. He could hear their thoughts still. "He wants to try to _kill me. They all do_."

"He won't, none of them will," Harry said back, slowly but with a certainty that his previous words had lacked, "I _promise_. They'll have to go through me if they want to try. I told them what we're going to do, just give them some time to adjust. They've all been through a lot."

Water continued to pelt down, the older wizards' thoughts below growing more distant, and Tom felt his mind calm enough to focus, and he focused on Harry's touch. His fingers on his stomach, gentle and unsure, his other hand around his bicep, strong and worried, his lips on his cheek, soft and pliant. He pressed his own lips together lightly. "You took a long time."

Harry smiled somewhat. "Sirius needed to make sure I was all in one piece. Evidently he got a Patronus right before our arrival that I'd just disappeared from school."

Tom swallowed softly, careful to stay calm as he waited.

"And..." Harry sighed, clearly hesitant to continue. "And he was upset by your presence. Voldemort... he's hurt a lot of people, Tom."

Tom still said nothing. There was nothing to be said to that. He'd known all this before agreeing to help Harry.

"I thought we were going to show up when there were just horcruxes..." Harry turned green eyes up, meeting his cool gaze. "Why did you change your mind?"

Tom held the air in his lungs for a few beats before saying, "I needed to see him myself."

Harry nodded hesitantly at that. "Okay..." he said, his voice rough, and he didn't want to think how that would complicate things just yet. Then a hard thump sounded outside the curtains, on the door. Green eyes widened like saucers, and Harry's hand tightened unconsciously on Tom's arm as he took a small step forward, putting himself between the Slytherin and whoever was on the other side.

"Harry, we've—we've made you _two_ food." Sirius's voice sounded an odd mixture of furious and desperately pleading. "Please come down straight away! Don't want it to get cold!"

Harry blinked, then he managed to shout back, "Yeah, okay thanks, be right there!"


	51. Chapter 51

Harry sat at the long, black wooden table inside the kitchen at Twelve Grimmauld Place. Tom sat on his left side, silent. Sirius sat directly across from Harry, Remus beside him and just across from Tom.

Silence hung thickly in the dimly lit room. It was late, and only a few candles set lit in the center of the table a few feet away. A bowl of stew sat in front of each wizard, a pot still simmering on the stovetop behind Harry, filling the room with its rich, spicy aroma.

Harry tried to clear his throat and then took a small bite of food, hiding his hesitation poorly. He regretted a lot at that moment.

"No appetite?"

Harry startled at the abrupt question, and he glanced up at a staring Sirius with raised brows. "No, I do... thanks again, Sirius, for making this for us. It's really good."

Sirius said nothing, his expression unsettling, but Remus spoke up on his behalf.

"Not a problem, Harry. Are you tired, do you feel okay?" His once professor leaned on his elbows, shooting Harry a concerned look. "You look a little flushed."

Harry shook his head, fighting the urge to touch Tom under the table for reassurance. The last thing he needed was to upset Sirius even more. He was unfortunately still feeling the effects from all the punch he'd had. It would seem time travel hadn't resolved that. "I feel fine, but, uh, I did accidentally have a bit of spiked punch at the ball..."

Remus seemed surprised, and Sirius's already dark expression hardened even more. "Oh, a ball...?" Remus said, and he visibly fought a smile. "Did you enjoy it...?"

And Harry broke into a small smile himself, nodding somewhat, and feeling grateful for the werewolf. "We did, the music, it was like what Arthur had—"

" _We_?"

The room grew silent again, Sirius's sharp question putting a stop to the lighthearted moment.

Harry felt Tom shift closer at that, and then he felt like his heart was going to stop when the Slytherin spoke up to answer his godfather.

"Yes, Harry and I are exclusive, Mr. Black," Tom said, his voice smooth and exceedingly polite. Harry glanced over to see him _smile_ at Sirius, of all possible things, and he grimaced internally, before nodding his agreement.

"Yes, I was going to tell you, Sirius, I'm sorry, I—"

" _No_ ," Remus said quickly, his hand gripping Sirius's arm in a seemingly casual manner, the wizard's wand hand, "no, Harry, there's no need to apologize for such a thing. Sirius and I had our suspicions." Then Remus paused. "For how long, if you don't mind my asking?"

Harry felt Tom's leg bump up against his under the table. And he said, his throat uncomfortably dry, "For a while now, a couple months, I believe."

Sirius's face had begun to turn a deep red color, and Remus's hand was still holding the wizard's arm on the table.

"Might I ask you a question, Mr. Lupin?"

Harry quietly choked on the bite he'd just taken as Tom leaned over his bowl to meet Remus's gaze closer and straight on.

Remus hesitated. "Sure."

"Do you suffer from lycanthropy, per chance?"

Harry choked even harder, and Sirius started to stand up, but Remus jerked him back down easily. "Yes, I do, and why do you ask?" he asked, his tone much cooler.

Tom smiled somewhat, grey eyes impassive. "Just curious, I've never met a lycanthrope before. Your aura is quite altered by it."

Remus took a few beats to nod faintly. "You can see it? My magical aura?"

Tom blinked. "My apologies, it appears to flare up when you use your extraordinary strength."

Sirius began to growl, and Harry frowned.

"I think I'm full, Tom and I will just head up—"

" _No_!" Sirius shouted, and then he blinked a few times and seemed to catch himself. "I—I just mean, you've hardly eaten, and we have so much to catch up on, please stay, Harry."

Harry hesitated.

"Not to mention we've yet to decorate the _tree_ ," Sirius added, sounding stressed.

Harry frowned, and Remus turned to Sirius with an unsure look. "Tree..." he asked his godfather, slowly, "you mean, like—a Christmas tree?"

Sirius nodded immediately, his grey eyes unusually manic. "Yes, Remus and I picked it up while you two were, ah, freshening up earlier... Won't that be fun?"

A few beats of silence followed the statement, and Harry nodded despite thinking it would be anything but that. "Sure, sounds great, Sirius."

" _Splendid_!" Sirius finally stood up when Remus released his grip, the former professor reluctantly standing with him. "Remus and I shall put everything in the sitting room, just take your time eating."

Harry waited for his godfather and Remus to leave, then he turned to look at Tom. "I'm sorry, he's honestly doing far better than I expected," he said apologetically.

Tom's lips curled up on one side. "He cares a lot for you, I understand."

Harry felt heat rush up the back of his neck, and he dipped his head to take a few more bites. He noticed the Slytherin by his side hovering his hand, palm down, just a few inches over his own untouched bowl of stew. "Something wrong?" Harry asked with slightly furrowed brows.

"Just checking for any potions," Tom said quietly, and when Harry tensed he added, "the house has been warded to prevent us from leaving, and the floo is sealed shut... a calming potion is the least of my worries at the moment."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "They laced your stew with calming potion?" Tom's hand moved to hover over Harry's silently.

"Yes, and yours too. Perhaps it is a normal ingredient in their food," he said dryly.

Harry drew in an unsteady breath. "I'm sorry, Tom, I didn't—"

"I was not looking for an apology, Harry," Tom said succinctly, his sharp gaze trained on the doorway that Remus and Sirius had left through, "only informing you of the situation so that you are making your decisions knowing all relevant information."

Harry felt his jaw clench. "Sirius would _never_ hurt me."

Tom blinked. "No, not knowingly." The wizard turned to meet Harry's unhappy expression. "If you would like my company in the sitting room, I'll join you."

Harry paused at that, taken aback that Tom was still willing to interact with Sirius and Remus after everything he'd told him. "You'd _do_ that for me?"

Tom wet just his lower lip, his grey eyes, intense, hiding some emotion behind them. "You underestimate my attachment to you, Harry."

Harry fought a shy grin. "Yeah?"

Tom nodded just barely. "Very much so." Then he shifted some closer, his larger side pressing up against Harry's smaller as he leaned down. His breath cool, grazing the side of Harry's neck, he lowered his voice to a whisper, "I meant what I said before though, no Dumbledore. That means  _any_ of them, Harry."

Harry nodded, hesitant, as he glanced up at the concerning sound of glass crashing from down the hall, and Sirius cursing loudly. "That'll be difficult without us leaving here..."

Tom pulled back and met Harry's gaze silently. He said nothing, and Harry felt his chest clench painfully.

" _Harry_ , are you finished?"

Harry exhaled heavily through his nostrils. He glanced down at his unfinished stew, frowned, and he stood up reluctantly. "Yeah, we're coming," he called back.

Harry found himself walking side-by-side with Tom through a dark corridor, the walls painted black, cobwebs hanging heavily around dimly lit sconces on the walls.

"This is the Black estate?" Tom asked, scanning the depressing decor with obvious interest.

Harry nodded with a hard swallow. "It is. Orion was Sirius's father."

Tom hummed at that. "And his mother...?"

"Walburga," Harry said softly, stopping at a curtained portrait as Tom broke into a wry grin. He motioned at it. "She's behind there."

"Well let's not wake her," Tom said in an equally hushed voice, "she's quite the bitch, I'm sure that didn't change."

Harry felt his chest shake with amusement, and he shook his head. "No, I don't think it did." He started walking again, Tom's presence heavy on his left side. He rubbed at his arm as he continued on, and he found as much as he wanted to stop Voldemort he wished they hadn't had to leave Tom's time to do so. He was thrilled to see Sirius again, and Remus, and he was excited to see Ron and Hermione... but he couldn't help but feel Tom was in serious danger.

"Ah, _Harry_!" Sirius stood by a massive pine tree at least 12 feet tall, that was almost touching the ceiling. A tangled up string of popcorn was in his hands, and there were at least ten, small boxes surrounding him, various glass trinkets and sewn ornaments filling them. "Remus will be right back, he just ran outside for a moment."

Harry frowned as he made his way over. He crouched down in front of one of the boxes. "Where did you get all these?"

Sirius hummed as he worked to untangle the popcorn string. "They... they were your parents'."

Harry froze, a small glass angel in his hand. He stared down at it, noticing a subtle blue hue to it on closer inspection, and when he flipped it over a year was inscribed in gold script. 1980. He stood slowly. "They were?"

Tom sniffed, drawing Harry's attention back. The Slytherin drew his wand, not acknowledging when Sirius tensed at the action. "May I?" he asked Harry's godfather, and he pointed with the tip of his wand at the wadded up mess in his hands.

Sirius's eyes narrowed with suspicion, but he nodded vaguely. "Be my guest," he said coolly.

Tom drew the string of popcorn up into the air, untangling it carefully, and then he wound it in perfect rings before laying it neatly back into the older wizard's hands. He ignored the look of contempt directed at him, and he turned to Harry to smile at him softly as he slipped his wand back into his sleeve.

Harry smiled back up at him, and Tom's smile only grew when Harry shifted closer to him unconsciously with the small glass ornament still in his hand. "Is that yours?" he asked privately.

Harry blinked, glancing down at the ornament with a slight frown. "I think so..."

"It was. _Is_ ," Sirius said, his voice rough, breaking slightly. "Your parents got that before you were born."

Harry nodded, and his eyes burned, and he felt extraordinarily guilty at that moment. Guilty for bringing Tom to Sirius's house, guilty for liking him, guilty for not wanting to like him, guilty for blaming him for something he hadn't even done, for something he didn't want to ever do. Guilty for being born and causing his parents' death in the first place.

"Harry..." Tom's hand settled carefully on his arm, fingers wrapping lightly around his bicep, and Harry forgot for a moment they weren't alone as he leaned into the wanted touch. "It's got a good luck charm on it, those are quite rare."

Harry looked up in surprise, and Sirius seemed just as surprised. "Like the potion?" he blurted.

Tom tilted his head slightly. "Very similar, though not as strong, but they are longer lasting."

Harry stared down at the glass ornament for a few seconds, and then he looked back up at the tree. He reached up, and hung it on a strong branch, filing the information away for later. Then he watched Sirius begin to string the popcorn around the tree, and he spoke up, cautiously, "Thank you, Sirius, for keeping this a secret for now. It really means a lot to me."

Sirius paused for a second, his gaze unfocusing, but then he slowly began to work again. "Not a problem, Harry, you are my godson."

Harry cleared his throat, pushing through even more guilt. "I know it's probably protocol to contact Dumbledore right away for this type of thing, but if you and Remus could wait until tomorrow."

"Why?" Sirius had stopped again and was staring at him with a look of what Harry could only describe as concern.

Harry felt a twinge inside his chest. "We need to do this alone, Sirius. I don't want anyone else to die, _please_. You, Remus, Ron, Hermione, everyone... I just want you all to be safe."

Sirius left the rest of the strand to hang down the tree, and he strode towards Harry, his expression severe. He grasped Harry's arms. "Harry, we can't let you do this alone—"

"He's not alone," Tom interjected, meeting Sirius's level gaze straight on, his tone even but clipped, "and I don't need your help. I can handle it."

"You think _so_?" Sirius asked, his voice breathy and filled with hatred. "Do you really think you can stop him just like _that_? He _is_ you."

Tom let a thick silence hang between them for a few beats before saying icily, "I'm aware. I know your father, Orion, did Harry tell you?"

Sirius took a small step forward. "What is that supposed to _mean_?"

Tom watched the wizard get even more worked up before saying simply, "You're very different from him."

Sirius blinked a few times and then took a step back, then another. He turned back towards the tree and began to wrap it again. "When Remus gets back we'll discuss this together," he said gruffly.

* * *

Harry sat beside Tom on one of the sofas in the sitting room. Music played softly on repeat from a player Remus had brought back, the tree was lit with floating candles that reflected brightly off shining ornaments, and Sirius's popcorn strand had only made it halfway up the sizable tree. Harry took another sip of drinking chocolate, enjoying the feel of Tom's lower leg situated snugly up against his. "Do you like it?" Harry asked.

"I do," Tom said back, holding a cup of chocolate as well, then he added, "it's getting rather late. It's almost midnight."

Harry nodded and took another small sip. Sirius and Remus had already gone to bed just minutes before, but Harry was stalling. He turned his attention to the decorated tree, and a wistful feeling twisted in his chest, aching. "Sometimes I wonder what it was like when I was little. Christmas, I mean."

"You miss them," was said quietly, not a question but not quite a statement either somehow.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I'm sorry, Tom, I know you had it much worse."

"It's not a competition, Harry," Tom said with the hint of a smile. "Perhaps you idolize them a bit too much though..."

Harry tensed at that, and he glared darkly at the Slytherin. "I'm sorry?"

Tom casually set his cup on the side table. "It's easy to only remember the good when something is gone. However, no one is perfect. We all have our flaws, some more than others."

Harry blinked a few times, his anger only growing. "What are you trying to say to me? You think my parents were bad people?"

Tom tilted his head slightly. "Not at all, but I do think you make it harder on yourself to move on by making them saint like in your mind. Your godfather has some rather unsavory memories of—"

"You _read his mind_?" Harry half shouted, and the cup by Tom began to rattle against the tabletop. "How _dare_ you!"

"Yes, I did," Tom hissed back icily, not backing down, "and that's how I also found out that he's _lying_ to you, he's _already_ told Dumbledore about our arrival. You trust people too much, Harry."

Harry felt his anger collapse in on itself at the revelation, and he struggled to argue with Tom's reasoning. "He thinks he's doing what's best."

"Yes, because he thinks _you_ don't know what's best." Tom glanced down then at the still cup by his side, and he said more slowly, "Who do you think has better judgement regarding this situation, Harry? You? Or Sirius?"

Harry fumbled for the right answer. "I think Sirius believes Dumbledore does."

"You didn't answer my question."

Harry let out a held breath. He stared down at his drink for a long moment. "How long do we have?"

Tom drummed his fingertips on the arm of the sofa. "Until morning, I believe."

Harry nodded slowly, still staring down. "Can you get us out of here?"

"I can.”


	52. Chapter 52

"It'd be best to wait for dawn to leave," Tom said in parseltongue as he eyed the manor's house elf—who was peering into the sitting room staring at them, at _him_. He'd appeared just minutes before, grumbling that Sirius Black had ordered him to stay with them while they were up and to do _whatever_ Harry asked. "That will give us time to rest, and everyone will have fallen asleep by then."

Harry agreed hesitantly with a nod, and he shifted some closer to him on the sofa. Tom stretched his left leg out until it was pressing against Harry's right in response, and Harry smiled slightly as he reclined back and rested the crown of his head on the uncomfortable piece of furniture. He noticed Kreacher sneer at their familiar touch, and he frowned somewhat before saying, still in the obscure language, "I'm not sure if I'll be able to sleep here tonight..."

Tom shifted some closer, their arms touching then too, and he looked down into Harry's tired, emerald eyes. "I'll stay up if it would help."

Harry's dark brows raised, and he turned his head in towards the tall Slytherin, closing the space between them further. "You don't have to do that, I just meant I feel uncomfortable here for some reason," he said, more quietly.

Tom arched one brow in response. "Are you surprised by that?"

Harry scrubbed an agitated hand over the top of his head as he felt their sudden nearness too keenly. "I'm just not sure what we're even doing here. I'm lying to Sirius, we're sneaking off first thing in the morning, it feels wrong."

Tom flicked his gaze over at the house elf, and his grey eyes narrowed slightly before shifting back down to Harry. He leaned down some. "We are here to stop Voldemort, _nothing_ else. If you allow yourself to be distracted you might get hurt. Do you understand?"

Harry took a moment, then he nodded faintly. He found his attention drifting down to close, red lips. And despite the situation, he smiled softly. "What about you? You distract me all the time..."

Tom ran his knuckles along Harry's jawline, and he watched the wizard's eyes fall shut at the simple touch. "That puts you in a precarious situation," he whispered.

Harry hummed faintly, and Tom grazed his lower lip up the side of his face.

"Don't worry, I never get distracted, I'll watch out for you, Harry," he whispered in his ear.

Harry nuzzled closer, quiet, as his breathing grew deeper, and Tom focused then on the prying servant, something about its presence bothering him more than it should. He studied the elf for a long moment and then—

"You have something that belongs to me, don't you?" he asked smoothly, and a cold sensation slipped into his thoughts even as the house elf shook its head violently in protest. He gently pressed into its mind, careful to accommodate for its unique magical skills, and his gaze grew even darker.

"What's wrong, what's he have?" Harry asked, pushing himself upright and suddenly alert.

"Kreacher has nothing, Kreacher has _nothing_ to give to _you_ ," the elf spat.

"He has a horcrux, my _ring_ to be _exact_ ," he said icily, "and you don't have to give it to me, I will take it."

The house elf's eyes grew as wide as saucers, and then Harry saw something small fly through the doorway and towards his head. Tom caught it just before they collided, and Kreacher let out an anguished howl.

"That is _mine_! Master Regulus gave _Kreacher_ that! It is _Kreacher's_ ring!"

"Shut up, Kreacher!" Harry shouted, looking out into the hallway with worry. "Sirius said to do whatever I say, remember?" Then he turned to Tom as the house elf fell to the floor and growled in anguish, clearly trying to fight the order from his hated master. He threw himself on the ground and pounded his fists so softly that it made no noise. "How do you know it's a horcrux? Did you see it in my memories?"

Tom said nothing in response. He merely placed the black stone ring into his left slacks' pocket as he stood. Something about it felt off. "We should retire for the night," he said curtly. "Tell _it_ not to communicate anything about this or anything regarding us to anyone else too." He nodded curtly in the direction of the house elf, who was still visibly distraught.

Harry looked to Kreacher, who was glaring at him once again as he stood, hunched over and looking like he'd been about to sneak away. "You heard him, Kreacher, no one is to know anything, not about us or what just happened."

The house elf dipped his pointy chin and growled, almost sounding like an angry cat, before disappearing with an angry ' _crack_.'

* * *

Harry stepped into the bedroom he and Tom were to share for the night. He glanced at the bed and then turned his attention away. A small tree sat atop a table in the corner, a tiny box beside it open. Harry treaded carefully over creaky floorboards, grimacing when one groaned too loudly beneath his foot.

"They're still awake," Tom offered as he began to undo his tie.

"Oh, ah, good to know," Harry said uncomfortably, purposely keeping his gaze away from Tom as he began to unbutton his shirt. "Do you want to help me decorate this?" He motioned at the tabletop tree when Tom looked over, and he felt heat run up the back of his neck. "I mean—you don't have—"

"Sure," Tom said, and he stopped undressing to walk over.

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat as the Slytherin approached, something in his manner causing the hairs on the back of Harry's neck to stand on end.

Harry reached into the small box, revealing strands of silver tinsel. He began to place it at the middle of the tree and work down, when Tom's hands covered his own, stilling them. "Here, let me," he said, moving closer until his front was just barely brushing Harry's back. Tom carefully guided his hands with his own, unwinding the silver decoration evenly around the green tree.

"Thanks," Harry said, his mouth unusually dry as he spoke. There was no reply, and the two spent the next few moments silently adorning the small tree with silver, obsidian, and glass ornaments together. Every time their fingertips met or Tom's chest brushed his back Harry felt an electric jolt through his limbs. He shook himself mentally.

"Should I place the topper, or would you like to?" Harry asked finally, taking a step back until he was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Tom, who seemed to be admiring their handiwork.

"Be my guest," Tom replied surreptitiously.

Harry reached into the box, pulling out a simple, seven-point star. He placed it atop the little tree, and as soon as it made contact, the magical ornament illuminated itself impressively bright, lighting even the far corners of the room.

"How are we meant to sleep with this on?" Harry wondered out loud as Tom began undoing the buttons on his shirt once more. Harry looked pointedly at the tree to avoid staring. "Is there a way to turn off a magical ornament?"

" _Nox_."

Hands guided Harry to bed in the room which was no longer lit by anything, save the cloud-covered moon outside the only window.

* * *

Harry looked up at the sky, grey with angry clouds as it was, the ocean crashing below and all around, its angry, white foam the only thing visible. "Is it safe here?" he asked, hesitant as he looked into the familiar cave. He was working hard to focus on what was ahead and not what he had just done. Yes, he'd left Sirius and Remus without telling them, at the first sign of daylight, and _clearly_ against their wishes, but he'd needed to... It was for the best.

"Nowhere in this time is safe, Harry," Tom said, quietly as one could over the roar of the unsettled ocean below them. He lit their path with his wand as he moved into the cave, Harry beside him, "But if we're to do what we came for, this is the best place to start..." He trailed off as he lifted his hand and began to slide it along the cold, wet wall.

Harry stopped alongside Tom, and he saw blood dripping down the side of his hand, staining the skin of his palm at the same time. Without warning the ground began to shake, and a wall of the cave opened like it had before. Harry wasted no time—not wanting to stay any longer than needed in the dark sea cave—climbing carefully into the boat with the wizard, purposely not looking into the deadly calm waters. The memory of he and Dumbledore there before plagued his thoughts, but not _nearly_ as much as the thought to why they were now coming there.

He said nothing, and when the boat rocked back gently, its bow stuck in the sand, he climbed out, more cautious than ever not to touch the water. Not to look at the water. To stop thinking about the _water_.

Harry watched Tom walk in front of him, the tall Slytherin's shoulders tense, and he slowed to a stop a few feet back when he saw Tom standing in the same place Dumbledore had. "Tom..."

"I placed my ring here just weeks ago," he said in a soft voice, "I assume the spellwork won't have changed despite it being switched out."

Harry felt his throat suddenly go dry, and he edged closer. "You have... a horcrux?"

Tom's lips curled up ever so gently on one side, and he turned his dark grey gaze on the wizard. "I do, does that surprise you?"

Harry felt his insides rebel, and his head felt suddenly light. He took a step closer carefully. "Why didn't you _tell_ me?" he asked, his voice tight.

"It was a private matter," Tom said, his eyes growing more distant, and he seemed to look through him, "it has no effect on you."

"It does _too_!" Harry shouted, and the words echoed starkly against stone walls.

" _How_." Tom was glaring at him now, his cold gaze cutting. His tone said the question was rhetorical. "It's _my_ soul, no one else's, Harry. You've absolutely no say what I do to it."

Harry stepped closer, and he felt a sharp twisting inside his chest. "You'll become just like him," he said, his voice filled with too many emotions, "if you make the same decisions, the same mistakes, you'll end up just like _Voldemort_ ; is that what you want, Tom?"

Tom stared back at Harry, his gaze like ice as he struggled to contain himself, and after a painful pause he said, his voice almost a whisper, "It's already _done_ , I can't undo it." Then he said something Harry hadn't expected. "I've tried."

Harry's expression softened the slightest bit at that, and he shifted closer. "After this is all over, I'll go back with you, and I'll help you. We'll figure it out together, I promise."

Tom said nothing, and he turned back to look down into the basin before him, clear waters, his ring not at the bottom. It sat heavily in his left slack pocket. It didn't feel the same though; it was _different_. It had been apparent from the moment he'd touched it. "Dumbledore... I believe he thinks there's a chance you've split yourself from your world, by traveling so far back in time and by changing so much of your past," he said tightly, working to contain himself again, "If we succeed here, it may only impact those here who've never left. You could be outside of it all. There may be another you, waiting to reappear once we're finished, but it won't be you, not really. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Harry let out a small breath, and he didn't know if he felt bad that Dumbledore hadn't told him the same, or if it was because the thought brought him some relief. It explained a lot though... "Dumbledore, he told you this?"

"More or less." Tom's lips twitched. "I thought you should know before we started that this might not be your world to save."

Harry thought of the Sirius and Remus he'd interacted with, they'd felt exactly the same. They were suffering the same too, probably _more_ at that moment thanks to him. He nodded finally. "If I can save any world, then I want to do it."

Tom tilted his head, and his self-control began to dwindle. "And you'd kill me every time too...?"

Harry frowned, taking a step forward. "He's not you, Tom. You know that as well as I do," he said with concern.

Tom glanced back down at the empty basin, and the ring in his pocket hummed longingly for its protection. He let his eyes slide shut, and he stretched his neck to the side again, struggling more. "Harry, you need to destroy this ring for me."


	53. Chapter 53

* * *

"Okay..." Harry said, even though he wasn't sure he could. He reached out his left hand carefully towards the obviously struggling wizard. "Hand it to me, Tom," he said, quietly.

Tom didn't look over as his skin began to break out into a cold sweat. Would it somehow destroy the one he'd made was the question. He didn't think so, but then again... he wasn't certain either. It was a piece of him, a piece of his soul— "Actually," Tom said, drawing his words out slowly, "I don't think I will give it to you, Harry."

Cold grey eyes met determined emerald ones then. "I've changed my mind. I'll just put it back in this basin, and it'll be safe. No one will be able to retrieve it."

Harry's wand hand flexed, but he refused to grab for his wand with Tom still unarmed. He looked at the tall wizard beseechingly, holding the sudden panic trying to seize his thoughts at bay. "Tom, _please_ ," he implored, his hand still outstretched, "it's just the ring, this isn't you. You said you wanted to do this, remember? You _just_ asked me to destroy it. And it's _not_ safe, _someone_ had already taken it from there, and Dumbledore was not stopped either by it."

"How _dare_ you," Tom seethed, "how _dare_ you bring him up to me over _such a thing_."

Harry watched Tom closely, the wizard's left hand curling into a tight fist, and then he said, his voice growing hoarse from the struggle to stay calm: "I'm only telling you the truth. It's controlling you, Tom... now, hand it over. Or I will fight you for it."

"Do you think my own Horcrux could _control_ me, Harry?" the tall Slytherin hissed, and he drew his wand. "And more importantly, do you think you can beat me?"

Harry pulled his own out in response, cautious as he surveyed the area around him, making note of just how close he was to the water. "I have before," he said evenly, wishing things weren't escalating, "but I don't want to, I just want you to hand over the ring. I promise, you'll feel better once you do."

Tom eyed him coldly. "And _why_ would I trust you, Harry? As you said, you've _killed_ me before."

Harry shook his head, his gaze trained on the wizard's wand, and he stubbornly ignored the sudden guilt rising in his chest. It wasn't true; he knew it wasn't. "No, never you, _only_ Voldemort. You know I don't want to fight with you. It's the _last_ thing I want. _Please, just give it to me_."

Tom raised his arm, pointing his wand straight at Harry, his gaze hard and focused. And just when Harry thought he was going to have to conjure a shielding charm, Tom pulled the ring from his pocket with his free hand. He held it tightly for a few beats, his chest rising and falling raggedly, and then he tossed it, and it rolled to a stop in front of Harry's feet.

Harry crouched down and grabbed it up quickly, scouring his mind on how to destroy it even as he continued to watch for any sign of attack from Tom. "I, I need help destroying it," he admitted when nothing came to mind, because he didn't have a basilisk fang on him or the sword of Gryffindor. Damnit. He should've planned for this—

"Fiendfyre."

Harry's eyes widened, and he searched Tom's gaze for any signs of deception. He still looked furious but perhaps more sane... at least, Harry hoped so. "Isn't that terribly dangerous?" he asked, worried.

Tom smiled somewhat, unamused. "Of course it is, Harry, that's _why_ it'll work." Then the smile disappeared. "Do it _now_."

Harry bristled at the order, but he nodded anyway. He glanced once more at Tom before throwing the ring as far as he could, and then he raised his wand and—he hesitated. Tom took a step forward, holding his wand aloft, and a massive snake burst forth made of fire, surging towards the falling ring with its giant maw wide open.

Harry stumbled back a step as he watched, wide-eyed, the terrible, fiery beast's mouth clamping shut around the Horcrux, wild flames shooting out with a clap in all directions like dangerous fireworks. Harry covered his ears as a horrific scream filled the cave and echoed off the walls, only seeming to grow louder before diminishing, the entire cave lit up at that moment. Massive, jagged stalactites covered the entire dome ceiling, a shiny reddish black—like they were dripping blood—and the entire underwater lake looked like a glass tabletop. The dead bodies beneath clearly visible too as the conjured fiery snake twisted and turned just over the perfectly smooth waters.

Harry gently touched Tom's free arm once the only sound left was the crackling and thundering sound of fire. "Tom, that's enough, let's go!" he shouted to be heard over the roaring flames. "Can you stop it?!"

Tom stared intently at the ravenous curse, half of his face glowing from its flames as he controlled its movement and kept it far away, despite it clearly wanting to attack them. It snapped threateningly in their direction, and giant flames flew off from its snapping fangs again. "We can seal it in here," he said back coolly, his eyes narrowed. "Once it's finished with the inferi it will extinguish."

Harry shook his head, vehemently against the idea. "We won't get out in time, and there's an anti-apparition charm on this place!"

Tom lowered his wand as he turned to Harry. The giant beast at least 100 yards away turned on them instantly, letting out a sound that was a mixture of a snake's hiss and crackling embers. It pulled its head back in a striking pose as Tom grabbed Harry's hand, no longer controlling it. "Who do you think put it here, Harry?" he said, and the next thing Harry knew there was a ' _crack_ ', a sharp tug behind his navel, and everything grew dark.

* * *

Harry looked up at trees as they spun all around him. He felt like he might be sick, but a cool hand to the side of his neck calmed the sensation instantly. A soothing feeling that had to be magical spread out from the touch and ran down into his stomach.

"I'm _sorry_ ," was whispered.

Harry let out a sigh of relief, and he closed burning eyes as he enjoyed the sensation of Tom pressing into the side of his face in a gentle gesture. They'd done it, they'd gotten rid of it, and they were both still alive. "It's okay, apparation always makes me a little sick," he said, short of breath, feeling almost giddy the more he thought on it. They were _actually_ going to stop Voldemort, he and Tom, together—

" _No_ , I mean for what happened in the cave," Tom said, just as quietly, and he cupped Harry's face, still leaning into him. "I'm _sorry_ , Harry."

Harry exhaled loudly again, the end of his breath coming out a little unsteady, and he found his mood trying to dip as he remembered facing off with Tom. The adrenaline that had just been flooding his body in relief tried to twist into something less pleasant. He shook it off firmly. "It's fine, we all make mistakes, no one's perfect," he said in a more subdued voice.

He felt Tom's hand tighten on the side of his neck, then lips caught the corner of his mouth, and he turned to meet the next kiss straight on, opening his mouth to give the wizard's tongue entrance. He felt a swell of confusing emotions well up as he was met with a demanding kiss, and then a surge of heat bloomed in his stomach, and he found himself meeting it just as heatedly.

* * *

They were in Tom's tent, but in the woods. Tom said he'd gotten the item to bring with them when he'd placed his ring.

Harry was seated on the edge of the wizard's still made-up bed, a troubling thought persisting to curb his once good mood, because... it had been a _locket_ , not a ring in the cave before.

The wizard dipped his head and scrubbed harshly at already wild, raven locks, mussing them impossibly more. What did it mean? Was it a good sign, or a bad one, that this world was more like Tom's and not his in this aspect? Did it mean Dumbledore was wrong, and these were just changes they'd made in the small time Harry had been in Tom's time, that there were actually no other timelines—just the one. And if so... did that mean he'd had no effect whatsoever on stopping Tom's terrible transformation?

The wizard blew out a weighted but silent breath from pursed lips. He glanced at the door. Tom was outside putting up a barrier for them. Then they were off to find a Death Eater before sleep, a higher up one preferably. Tom said he wanted to 'see' their mind.

Harry frowned in worry. Maybe they _should_ contact Dumbledore, after all, he wasn't sure where the locket was now, or if the Headmaster had found and destroyed any other Horcruxes, since some things had obviously changed. And he'd yet to see Hermione and Ron, which he knew there wasn't really the time to do... but still.

"Are you all right, Harry?"

Green eyes shot up, and Harry cleared his expression as he watched Tom push the tent's door flap open to enter, the tall Slytherin ducking slightly to avoid brushing his hair.

Harry cleared his throat and stood. "Things are different here," he said without any pretense, and Tom stopped at the words. Harry shook his head. "The Horcrux in the basin, it was a locket, not a ring in my time."

Tom studied Harry quietly, but his expression remained impassive, giving no indication as to what he thought. "Salazar Slytherin's?" he asked, his voice smooth but with a noticeable tension to it.

Harry nodded, brows furrowed slightly. "Yes. It was only a replica in the basin, but yes. Dumbledore'd already found the ring before that and destroyed it. I don't know if he's destroyed other ones now."

Tom's dark grey eyes darkened imperceptibly. "You think we should meet with him."

Harry flexed his jaw, because he'd thought that from the very start, but—"I understand why you don't want to."

Tom narrowed his eyes ever so slightly and began to walk forward once more, towards Harry. "Do you _really_ , Harry?" Harry swallowed around a sudden knot, and Tom stopped just in front of him. When he spoke, his words were oddly soft. "He will try to _kill_ me, you do know that?"

Harry's eyes widened, and he started to shake his head—but then he stopped. He didn't think Dumbledore would ever do that, but he understood the wizard's concern. "Then just me, I can go and talk to him. Find out what's changed, what he knows."

Tom slowly tilted his head to one side, his right hand coming up and resting ever so gently around the front of Harry's throat. Tom dipped his chin so he could whisper as his thumb began to trace a featherlight path over Harry’s warm skin. "Do you think I'm a bad person, Harry...?"

Harry closed his eyes as he struggled not to tense under Tom's touch. "You know I don't," he said back, quietly but without hesitation.

Tom's lips curled up one side at that, and he huffed half a breath, the end being cut off with an unnatural abruptness. "Dumbledore will be of no help to you so long as you hold that view, I promise you. He thinks I'm a lost cause, always has, even in our first meeting I saw it. I was honest with him, and he judged me in return."

Harry did shake his head then, he drew back somewhat to meet the wizard's intense grey gaze, refusing to acknowledge his words as truth. "You don't know that, maybe he's changed. People change, Tom."

Tom said nothing for a long moment. "Some things can't be changed, Harry. Some things are _meant_ to _be_."

Harry swallowed hard, and although he wasn't exactly sure how to take the statement, he knew they were all negative. Tom's hand was once more at the forefront of his attention, the bracing grip riling him—but the soft, trailing caress on the side of his neck trying to soften his resolve at the same time. He closed his green eyes stubbornly when they began to burn on the wizard's behalf, a confusing twisting deep inside his chest. "You came here to help me..."

"I did, and I am."

Harry nodded faintly. "Then I need to talk to Dumbledore, things have changed. I need his advice. He won't hurt me, and I'll make sure it doesn't affect your safety."

Tom's hand flexed, tensing its grip, and his thumb stilled. "And if he decides to keep you there with him? If something goes wrong? If I show up to get you? What _then_? _Whose_ side will you choose if you're forced to make a decision? Because you _can't_ be on both our sides, not when we are at such odds."

Harry felt torn. He understood Tom's point of view, he did, but then he thought of the Headmaster and all they'd been through together—and he felt his shoulders drop as the decision was made for him. "I'm going to go see him, I don't want to choose. I just want to stop Voldemort."

Tom said nothing, his breathing slowed, and the muscles in his hand began to twitch. He jerked his hand open, instead of letting it tighten like it wanted to around Harry's neck. He held in a low growl, the sound dying in the back of his throat before it could fully form. He took a stiff step back, and then another. He held Harry's emerald gaze as he said, barely able to get the words out, "Then _go_." He sneered involuntarily, and he ignored his wand tingling inside his sleeve. "I'll handle the next part of our plan alone."

Harry felt a sharp twisting in his chest. "I can wait until tomorrow, I didn't mean right away."

Tom's eyelids dipped slightly as his gaze grew hyper focused on Harry. His thoughts began to lighten, and he smiled, showing perfectly white teeth, ice running through his veins, numbing. "I suggest... you leave _now_."

Harry's gaze dropped to the floor, and he nodded slightly. He needed to do this, Dumbledore would help him, _them_ ; he was sure of it. "All right. I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised quietly.

Tom said nothing in reply, and Harry didn't look over as he left the tent to disapparate.

Tom stood, every single muscle tensed, and when the inevitable ' _crack_ ' sounded just outside his grey gaze turned almost black. He focused intently, and then an ebony smoke began to rise from the ground, and then he was part of it, and he was weightless.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy couldn't sleep anymore even if he wanted to. He looked down at his wife, sleeping soundly on the bed by his side, peacefully unaware of what was to come. He'd just felt the Dark Lord pass through the Manor's magical barrier; he was certain of it. He didn't understand why he was back so soon though. He'd just visited the morning before, and Lucius had thought for sure they'd have at least a few days of peace.

The master of the manor stood, his shaking legs fighting the vertical position. He pulled on his robe in a hurry, grabbing his cane, with his wand, under just the light of a single, dimly flickering candle. He heard a door open down the hallway, creaking softly, and he jumped at the sound.

He felt his mind begin to rebel, panic setting in—but then, suddenly, an odd tingling slid over his thoughts and then his entire body; and he began to walk towards the door of the master suite and out without hesitation.

He was striding down the hallway, when he realized he couldn't stop. Lucius tried to cry out in distress, but his voice was stifled. He found himself walking into the opened door to his study against his will, and he couldn't stop until he was standing before his own desk, his tall chair behind turned away, no telling who was behind it. But he didn't need to see, he _knew_. His pale grey eyes were wide, and he felt faint.

"Lucius Malfoy, you're Abraxas's offspring?" was asked in an unexpected, smoothly cold voice. Then the seat rotated, and Lucius couldn't believe what he saw.

Tom gave a closed-mouth smile, and his piercing gaze flicked over the still silent wizard: one of Voldemort's highest up from what he'd gathered from Harry and even his godfather's house elf. He clenched his back teeth together for a few seconds, and then he said coolly, "Tell me... _Lucius_ , were you and your father close?" He released him from the curse with an idle wave of his hand.

The wizard took a few stumbling steps back, stopping just before falling into his own hearth. His pale grey eyes were wide, and his jaw, which was lined with the unbecoming shadow of stubble, was subtly tremoring. He looked like someone who was seeing a ghost, at least... one he'd rather not see. "I—I, no, no we were not," he said in a hurry.

Tom pressed his lips together as he slowly pulled out his wand, the wizard's gasp not missed. Nothing followed. "You're being too polite, Lucius," Tom said, studying his wand idly, "please, say what you're thinking..." He turned his gaze up when there were no forthcoming words, and he raised his pitch dark brows inquisitively. "Perhaps you prefer I pick the thought from your mind instead?"

" _No_!" Lucius cringed, and he held up a hand apologetically, seeming to get a hold of himself somewhat. "No, _my Lord_ , I, I _apologize_ , I'm just so glad to see you back and, looking so, so _well_."

Tom's smile grew. "Indeed..."


	54. Chapter 54

"Please. Sit," Tom said, no inflection to his voice.

Lucius hesitated, but then he carefully lowered down to sit on the floor, legs trembling and threatening to collapse beneath him. The wizard wished at that moment he'd kept other chairs in his personal study. He heard his own chair push back, scraping harshly, the cushioning charms to protect the expensive floors not working for some reason.

Tom walked around the massive desk, and he peered down at the exceptionally obedient wizard. "You're quite servile..." he said curiously, and he ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth for a heavy stretch of silence, a smile growing ever more in his thoughts, "I believe I'll keep you."

"Th-thank you, m-my Lord," was the wizard's confused response.

Tom glanced towards the door. "Please. Call me Riddle." He felt the wizard's shock. And then he felt something else... "Let me see your left arm." He turned, his eyes narrowing as he watched the wizard shove up the sleeve of his robe to reveal a magical tattoo of a black snake and skull. " _Interesting_..." he said in a soft whisper, drawing closer, practically able to taste all the domineering spellwork infused in the artwork, "but we'll need to alter this, I think..."

Lucius looked up at him like he might faint. "My Lord...?"

Tom raised dark brows meaningfully. "I am not your lord, as I've said, I'm _Riddle_ to you now."

Lucius stared at him with pale lips parted, and then he seemed to remember himself and nodded anxiously. "My—my apologies."

" _Riddle_ ," Tom said in a hard tone.

"Master Riddle, yes, yes of course, my _apologies_."

Tom eyed him narrowly with disgust. "Are you a house elf or a _wizard_?"

Lucius blinked slowly, and he felt like crying. "A wizard?" he asked, his voice breathy and almost failing him, and he feared he might actually begin to cry. He didn't know what kind of test he was being put through, but he just hoped if he was failing Narcissa and Draco would not be punished too.

Tom nodded somewhat in approval, and then he looked around the manor's study with an air of discontent. "Tell me, Lucius, do you have another home, or just this one?"

Lucius's instinct was to lie, but he knew the consequences. Flashes of green smoke forced out the words, "Yes, Master—Mr.—Mr. Riddle, a beach house in France."

Tom thought for just a second. "You and your wife pack. No house elves. We leave before the hour." He raised his hand when the wizard opened his mouth, silencing him, and he forced him out and back towards his rooms to prepare. Five minutes. He could feel his incomplete self approaching, time was of the essence.

* * *

 

" _Harry_!"

Harry felt arms thrown around him before he could even process the blur that was Hermione, an 'oof' forced from his lungs.

"We've been so worried about you! What _happened_? Seamus said you just disappeared from the common room and—"

"Blimey, Hermione, you're going to suffocate him," Ron's voice complained, cutting off her rapid questioning. He gently tugged her back some, and Harry found himself grinning widely at his two best friends as he stood just inside Hogwarts' massive doors, a feeling of relief rushing over him. "It's good to have you back, mate, you had us worried," Ron said, his brows furrowed.

"Sorry," Harry said, rubbing at wild black hair sheepishly. He wasn't sure exactly what he should say had happened. They thought he'd been gone only minutes, not months, and they definitely didn't know about Tom... they would've said something if so. Harry held back a grimace—

" _Harry_ ," Hermione said, her tone turning somehow even more serious, "what happened? We floo'd Sirius, and he just said that he wasn't—"

"That's enough for now, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore's voice carried softly through the candle lit entryway, drawing the three Gryffindor's attention immediately. "You two, I believe, still need to finish your rounds. I will see Harry here safely to his dorm once we've spoken."

" _Headmaster_ ," Harry said, feeling a tinge of nervousness, and possibly guilt too, as he met twinkling blue eyes—not to mention a swell of happiness at seeing _his_ Dumbledore alive. He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard, somewhat overwhelmed. "I apologize for earlier, I—"

"Think nothing of it, Harry," the old headmaster said with a small wave of his hand, and then he turned his quiet gaze on Harry's two lingering friends.

Ron and Hermione both shot Harry a look like they'd rather not leave him, but they begrudgingly obeyed, walking off while shooting glances over their shoulders and whispering to each other.

Harry watched them leave, the unpleasant feelings in his chest only growing, and he started to wish he hadn't come back—

"Harry," Dumbledore said, placing a hand gently on his shoulder and startling him back to the present, "Come, we need to go to my office straight away."

* * *

 

Harry sat, studying Fawkes as he cleaned disheveled looking feathers dutifully. Dumbledore had rushed him to his office, saying he didn't want 'prying eyes' to discover his return. Umbridge. Harry'd almost forgotten about the witch.

A grimace pulled at his features as he rubbed absentmindedly at a scar on his left hand.

"All right. Please tell me all you know."

Harry hesitated as Dumbledore sat down behind his desk, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on the tabletop. He peered down over narrow glasses, his blue eyes penetrating, waiting.

"You can trust me, Harry. No harm will come to Tom, you have my word."

Harry looked down at his lap, his thoughts buzzing in a confusing jumble. Tom hadn't wanted him to come, he was furious over it. How would he deal with Harry revealing everything to the one wizard he loathed?

"Here, you might want to read this. It may alleviate your concerns." A note was pushed across the desk. It was yellowed from age, and it had written across the outside 'Do not read unless Harry disappears and returns with someone unexpected.'

Harry looked up at the old wizard in surprise, and Dumbledore smiled at him knowingly. "It was not a difficult assumption Mr. Riddle qualified. Go ahead, read it. I wrote it to myself long ago, but I altered my memories to keep its contents a secret."

Harry took the piece of parchment hesitantly. Then he leaned back in his chair and opened it carefully.

* * *

 

"So, there are two Toms...?"

Dumbledore took a moment to answer. "It isn't quite that simple. Think of it as when you travel through time it's possible for only a portion of you to go, while the other part remains, continuing on with your natural timeline."

Harry exhaled unhappily. "So the Tom part that stayed, the part we left behind, he still became Voldemort then?"

Dumbledore nodded slightly. "I'm afraid so." Harry's gaze dropped, and the headmaster continued more gently, "Do not beat yourself up, Harry. It is possible there was no way to save that part of Tom, because without it, you could not have traveled back in the first place."

Harry slowly turned his gaze back up, confused but still catching something significant from the older wizard's words. "But you think _this_ Tom can be saved? That was the point of this letter explaining my appearance in that time and keeping track of Tom's changed behavior while I was there, it means... it means this part of him, he can still change for the better?"

Dumbledore nodded slightly, eyeing Fawkes with a far-away look. "I believe we must treat him like he can. Distrust and war has gotten us only so far over the many years of this battle. You have managed more with Tom in months than anyone ever accomplished. It makes one reconsider their own decisions..."

Harry fidgeted in his seat, the headmaster seeming like he was somewhere else. He suddenly wanted to tell him how he'd died, how Sirius had died too, and he wanted to say he wasn't exactly from his time; that he was actually a year ahead of all of them. That he had seen things they should know, but he held his tongue. He wasn't going to let any of that happen.

He spoke up after some time, needing to ask, "Have you found any Horcruxes yet?"

" _Horcruxes_?" Blue eyes grew dark, and Dumbledore said, his voice suddenly grave, "So there is more than just the diary?"

Harry nodded tightly. "Yes, sir, we believe there might be seven, in total. We've destroyed one so far, and Tom, ah... well, I believe he knows what the others are..."

* * *

 

Harry let out a slow breath as he softly shut the heavy door to the headmaster's office. He'd said he needed to use the loo, but really, he'd needed to leave.

After his and Dumbledore's conversation, he'd quickly come to the realization he needed to get back to Tom. Now if only he had his invisibility cloak, because he somehow had to sneak back out the castle—Harry felt a tug behind his navel, and before he could curse—he found himself standing in a foreign room.

"Harry _Potter_?"

Harry stumbled forward a slight step, disoriented, but a firm hand grasped his arm and steadied him.

"Are you all right, Harry?" was hissed near his ear.

"Yeah, I'm—I'm fine," Harry said as he blinked rapidly, his brain translating the other language without recognition, the sound of gasps not quite registering how they should as he worked to orient himself. And he suddenly realized what had happened. "Did you put a _portkey_ on me?" he asked, angrily.

Tom released his grip on his arm, his expression, Harry realized, off somehow. "I did, I set it to activate once you'd left though. You're welcome."

Whispers started up, growing quickly in intensity, and Harry broke Tom's gaze to look over in confusion. Where were they anyway, it wasn't the tent—Harry blinked. Then he blinked again, certain he was hallucinating.

"Tom..." He slowly took a step forward, green eyes widening as he took in the sight. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy sat at a table, watching him back in complete confusion and looking very much like they didn't want to be there. "Where are we exactly... and what are you doing with them?"

"We are somewhere safe, for the time being. And they are a present—for you, Harry."

Harry frowned, pitch dark brows furrowing in concern. "How so?" he asked, his voice growing breathy as he continued to study the two wizards he hated very much but at that moment was worried for, and he hated that he was. They looked like they'd been terrified but hopefully not hurt. "Tom, what for?" he asked again but with less patience.

"They're going to help us locate the other Horcruxes," Tom said quietly near his ear, having silently approached Harry from behind. His right shoulder pressed up against the back of Harry's left, and Harry felt his chest give a slight tug at the solid contact. With effort, he ignored the looks of horror their familiar interaction was drawing as Tom added, softly hissing, "We should get some rest now, Harry, you didn't sleep at all last night. We can deal with this better in the morning."

Harry nodded just barely, still slightly in shock. "And them, what will they do until then?" he asked, responding back in Parseltongue to keep their conversation private as he eyed them somewhat suspiciously.

Tom's lips curled up ever so slightly. "They can sleep too if they wish..." Then Tom slid his fingers around Harry's wrist and began to tug him backwards. "Come Harry, we need our privacy."

Harry found he really wanted to say something to the two wizards, so he stopped hesitantly. "Just a moment," he said quietly to Tom before saying louder for them. "No one's going to hurt you, I promise. We just need your help with something."

Lucius just stared at him, like he didn't believe a word of it, but Narcissa's expression grew more responsive, if shrewder too. "Harry, you're Harry Potter, you've not just taken polyjuice?"

Harry felt Tom immediately behind him again, tense, but he answered anyway. "I'm me, no polyjuice. We'll talk more in the morning, but like I said, we _won't_ harm you." Harry watched Narcissa nod ever so slightly as she stared directly at him, but Lucius seemed more interested in staring directly beyond him at a silent Tom. "Goodnight," he said awkwardly, and then he turned away again.

Harry quietly walked down a hallway that had all glass on his side, dark grey walls on Tom's, and he glanced over at the tall wizard, noting his stiff demeanor and frowning. "You're not planning to hurt them, are you?"

Tom looked down at him out of the corner of his vision. "Do you think I am?" he asked coldly, his grey eyes dark. Then the tall wizard opened a door that blended with the wall and that Harry hadn't even seen. He walked in, not turning back as Harry followed him inside and gently shut the door back.

Harry watched Tom begin to undo his tie, and he briefly looked around the bedroom. A king sized bed with silky silver sheets was set in the very center of the impressive bedroom, deep green marble tile floors were offset by black wardrobes and nightstands as well as a set of chairs, there were no windows on the walls, but the ceiling was made of glass. He found himself staring up at a cloudless sky, and he realized he could hear ocean waves crashing. "We're at the beach...?" Harry asked, his voice hoarse.

Tom didn't answer, and Harry let out a held breath as he looked back down at the wizard. It felt weird. He'd just seen Ron and Hermione, Dumbledore too, he'd been at Hogwarts. And now he was with Tom again. He felt weird. He watched Tom take off his shirt and set it across the back of one of the chairs. "You're angry with me?" he asked tightly.

Tom still didn't respond. He set his slacks neatly overtop his shirt then walked to the opposite side of the bed in just a pair of white boxers. He climbed in, the sconces went out, and Harry found himself standing in absolute darkness. He undressed without thinking and climbed into the bed.

He lay quietly for a few beats. "I'm sorry if I upset you."

He received no response.

Harry stared up at the stars as the silence between them seemed to grow. He swallowed, his throat dry, and he realized that despite being happy when he'd been back at Hogwarts and seeing everyone. Despite now, being in an unknown house, with the Malfoy's their prisoners more or less it seemed and Tom quite possibly furious with him. _Despite_ having found out that a version or part, or whatever, of Tom had still become Voldemort. Despite _all_ that—all he wanted was for Tom to say something to him.

The bed shifted, and then Harry felt Tom's larger body pressing against the side of his, and his nose rested against his cheek, silent breaths sneaking down his jaw and tickling his neck. "I'm glad you're back."

Harry almost thought he'd imagined the words, they'd been breathed more than said, and he hadn't expected them at all. "I am too," he admitted almost as quietly, his chest twisting on him. He almost told him about what Dumbledore'd said but stopped, thinking better of it; it could wait until the morning too.

He felt a hand rest carefully on his stomach, just a palm, no fingers at first, but then they slowly began to settle; and Harry's heart skipped a little behind his ribs as each touched down.

"Harry, you can trust me."

Harry nodded only slightly, not wanting Tom to pull away any as he enjoyed the closeness between them. He found himself once more looking up at the sky, a certain bright star grabbing his attention, and his thoughts drifted to Sirius. He was probably worried sick about him, but his godfather'd always seemed worried for him honestly, not that he blamed him for it. And Dumbledore... he couldn't help but think the headmaster knew more than he was admitting, and not just because he'd commented on how he seemed 'much older' from his recent travelings. But then again, Dumbledore always seemed to know more than he let on... Maybe he shouldn't worry so much, maybe he should just focus on what needed to be done, like Tom kept saying.

The hand on his stomach began to draw in, fingers scraping over his stomach somewhat roughly, and Harry's breath caught in his throat. Then they stretched back out, tracing idly over reddened sensitized skin and sending small waves of chills down Harry's spine. "Are you tired yet?" Soft.

"No... not quite," Harry said as he blinked rapidly in the dark. Then lips pressed to his jaw, and the hand on his stomach began to slide up towards his chest. "Do you, uh, do you think this is okay for us to be distracted like this?" Harry asked, suddenly remembering where they were and why.

Tom's hand snaked up Harry's neck, turning his head so that lips could find his. "Only _one_ of us is going to be distracted," he hissed against Harry's chin, but before Harry could ask what he meant Tom was pressing firmly on his shoulder and moving him down the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are obscenely appreciated.


End file.
